As he rode from Regengetz Circus into Castle Avenue, a small knot of American tourists crowded to the curb and bent eager, attentive ears to the words of a stubby little person whom we should recognise by his accent; but, for fear that there may be some who have forgotten him in the rush of events, we will point to his cap and read aloud: "Cook's Interpreter."
Mr. Hobbs was saying: "The gentleman on the gray horse, ladies and gentlemen, is his Highness, the Grand Duke Paulus. He has come to pay his respects to his Serene Highness. Now, if you will kindly step this way, I will show you the spot where the bomb was thrown. 'Aving been an eye-witness to the shocking occurrence, I respectfully submit that I," etc. With a pride and dignity that surpassed all moderate sense of appreciation, he delivered newly made history unto his charges, modestly winding up his discourse with the casual remark that the Prince had but recently appointed him twelfth assistant steward at the Castle, and that he expected to assume the duties of this honorary position just as soon as Cook & Sons could find a capable man to send up in his place.
The American tourists, it may be well to observe, arrived by the first train that entered the city from the outside world.
The audience was at two o'clock. Prince Robin was in a state of tremendous excitement. Never before had he been called upon to receive a grand duke. He quite forgot yesterday's battle in the face of this most imposing calamity. More than that, he was in no frame of mind to enjoy the excitement attending the rehabilitation of the Castle; oppressed by the approaching shadow of the great man, he lost all interest in what was going on in the Castle, about the grounds and among his courtiers.
"What'll I do, Uncle Jack, if he asks any questions?" he mourned. They were dressing him in the robes of state.
"Answer 'em," said his best friend.
"But supposin' I can't? Then what?"
"He won't ask questions, Bobby. People never do when a potentate is on his throne. It's shockingly bad form."
"I hope he won't stay long," prayed Bobby, a grave pucker between his brows. He was a very tired little boy. His eyes were heavy with sleep and his lips were not very firm.
"Count Halfont will look after him, Bobby; so don't worry. Just sit up there on the throne and look wise. The regents will do the rest. Watch your Uncle Caspar. When he gives the signal, you arise. That ends the audience. You walk out—"