Prince Bobby was still unappeased. "I could have you beheaded," he said stubbornly. "Couldn't I, Uncle Caspar?"
Count Halfont gravely informed him that it was not customary to behead gentlemen except for the most heinous offences against the Crown.
The Duke of Perse suddenly bent forward and placed his bony hand upon the unshrinking shoulder of the Prince, his eyes gleaming kindly, his voice strangely free from its usual harshness. "You are a splendid little man, Prince Robin," he said. "I glory in you. I shall not forget the lesson in loyalty that you have taught me."
Bobby's eyes filled with tears. The genuine humility of the hard old man touched his tempestuous little heart.
"It's—it's all right, Du—your Grace. I'm sorry I spoke that way, too."
Baron Dangloss twisted his imperial vigorously. "My lords, I suggest that we adjourn. The Prince must have his ride and return in time for the review at one o'clock."
As the Prince strode soberly from the Room of Wrangles, every eye was upon his sturdy little back and there was a kindly light in each of them, bar none. The Duke, following close behind with Halfont, said quietly:
"I love him, Caspar. But I have no love for the man he loves so much better than he loves any of us. Tullis is a meddler—but, for Heaven's sake, my friend, don't let; Bobby know that I have repeated myself."
Later on, the Prince in his khaki riding suit loped gaily down the broad mountain road toward Ganlook, beside the black mare which carried John Tullis. Behind them rode three picked troopers from the House Guard. He had told Tullis of his vainglorious defence in the antechamber.
"And I told him, Uncle Jack, that you could lick him. You can, can't you?"