“I say, von Moll,” he said. “After the frightfully impressive way you said that, we ought to have some sort of demonstration. Let’s drink the old boy’s health and say ‘Hoch!’ or whatever the proper thing is. I’m sure you must want a drink, and those swashbucklers of yours”—he looked round at von Moll’s six men—“could hold hands and sing ‘Deutschland über Alles.’ It would cheer us all up.”
The Queen looked at von Moll in amazement. Then she glanced at Konrad Karl. While Gorman was speaking she made up her mind to assert herself.
“You forget,” she said, “that King Konrad Karl is my guest, and so are you while you are in my house.”
Donovan, still in his shirt sleeves, looking very tired and hot, slouched into the hall while the Queen spoke. Smith followed him. The Queen, nervous and half frightened in spite of her brave words, turned to him.
“Oh, father,” she said, “I am glad you’ve come.”
Donovan nodded to von Moll.
“Sit right down,” he said, “there’s a chair behind you. You’ll stay for luncheon, won’t you?”
He sat down himself as he spoke and took a cigar out of his case.
“Smith,” he said, “cocktails.”
“Yes, sir,” said Smith.