“You’ll excuse my asking, your Majesty,” said Smith, “but I like to hear about Mr. Steinwitz. It was Mr. Steinwitz who got me my present situation—a very good situation, your Majesty.”
“Smith,” said Donovan, “get the King’s luggage ashore. He’s going to stay here for a bit. You must make him as comfortable as you can.”
“Yes, sir,” said Smith. “I’ll see to that, sir, at once. Anything else, sir?”
“Not now,” said Donovan.
“Thank you, sir,” said Smith.
Then he left the balcony. Many men, perhaps most men, would not have gone far away, would have lingered near one of the open windows which gave on the balcony, nervously anxious to hear what was said about them. Smith was not in the least nervous. He went straight to the landing steps and was to be seen a few moments later rowing out to the steamer. He probably guessed pretty accurately what questions Donovan and Gorman would ask. He must have known what King Konrad Karl would tell them. He would discover in due time what they decided to do. There was no real need for eavesdropping. Yet I think most men would have tried to listen.
“Seems to me,” said Donovan to the King, “that you’re acquainted with Smith. I’m not asking questions. It’s no affair of mine, anyway. Don’t say a word unless you like. I’m not curious.”
“I am,” said Gorman, “infernally curious. Who is Smith?”
“For five years,” said the King, “perhaps for more—who knows—he has walked on my shadow. He has been a beagle hound, nose down, on my smell, pursuing it. Never until last April has he run off the tracks.”