"I came to see your Majesty," said the Provost of Bayswater, whose name was Wilson, "about that Pump Street affair."
"I have just been explaining the situation to his Majesty," said Buck, curtly, but recovering his civility. "I am not sure, however, whether his Majesty knows how much the matter affects you also."
"It affects both of us, yer see, yer Majesty, as this scheme was started for the benefit of the 'ole neighbourhood. So Mr. Buck and me we put our 'eads together—"
The King clasped his hands.
"Perfect!" he cried in ecstacy. "Your heads together! I can see it! Can't you do it now? Oh, do do it now!"
A smothered sound of amusement appeared to come from the halberdiers, but Mr. Wilson looked merely bewildered, and Mr. Buck merely diabolical.
"I suppose," he began bitterly, but the King stopped him with a gesture of listening.
"Hush," he said, "I think I hear some one else coming. I seem to hear another herald, a herald whose boots creak."
As he spoke another voice cried from the doorway—