“Exactly. Now I, unfortunately—I fear that the king rather dislikes me.”
“You weren’t at all civil to him when he offered you the Order of the Pink Vulture; but I don’t think he has any grudge against you on that account. He’s not the sort of man who bears malice. The real question is—what is the king to get out of it? What are you offering him?”
“The Allies,” said Sir Bartholomew, “would recognise him as the King of Megalia, and—er—of course, support him.”
“I don’t think he’d thank you for that,” said Gorman, “but you can try him if you like.”
Sir Bartholomew, on reflection, was inclined to agree with Gorman. Mere recognition, though agreeable to any king, is unsubstantial, and the support suggested was evidently doubtful.
“What else?” He spoke in a very confidential tone. “What other inducement would you suggest our offering? We are prepared to go a long way—to do a good deal——”
“Unfortunately for you,” said Gorman, “the king is pretty well off at present. He got £6,000 three weeks ago out of Bilkins—the man who ran the egg swindle—and until that’s spent he won’t feel the need of money. If you could wait six weeks—I’m sure he’ll be on the rocks again in six weeks—and then offer a few thousand——”
“But we can’t wait,” said Sir Bartholomew. “Affairs in the Near East are most critical. Unless the Megalian Army acts at once——”
“In that case,” said Gorman, “the only thing for you to do is to try Madame Ypsilante.”
“That woman!” said Sir Bartholomew. “I really cannot—— You must see, Mr. Gorman, that for a man in my position——”