"I only need a false nose," he said to himself, "and I should make a splendid impersonator of Offenbachian opera." And, drawing his sword, he sang with great spirit and much expression, that inimitable air: "Voici le sabre de mon pere—voici le sabre de-e mon pere."
A knock at the door checked his vibrato.
"Herein!" he called.
A boy in a tight brown uniform, adorned with the usual unnecessary buttons, entered.
"A note, Excellency."
Trafford took the missive, which bore the royal seal. It read as follows:
"Neptunburg.
"My Good Friend,
"The procession leaves here at mid-day, when you must be in close attendance on the Royal Person. Lunch at 2 p.m. After lunch, an informal Council in the Throne room. After the Council, make your way to the private apartments. I will give orders for you to be admitted.
Yours very bewildered, G. v. S., I mean G. R."