“And I think I may truthfully say,” declared Kearns, with a laugh, “that I have had an extensive experience with courts, though not of this precise character. Still, like the Professor, I am in doubt as to whether we ought to go. I’ve no particular liking for figuring as a curiosity.”
“It would never do to refuse the royal command,” said the Colonel. “Oh, by the way, there is something I had nearly forgotten. His Majesty has especially inquired as to the health of Mr. Kearns and will receive him in special audience immediately after his arrival at the Court.”
“Well, well,” exclaimed the Professor with light sarcasm, “let me congratulate you, my friend. You seem to be basking in the sunshine of royal favor.”
But Kearns sat with bent brows, apparently in deep thought. A moment later he sprang lightly to his feet.
“Yes,” he exclaimed with determination, “we’ll go. I’ve been there before, you know.”
“Where?” asked the Professor. “To the Court?”
“No,” answered Kearns grimly, “not to the Court, but I’ve had experiences of this kind before. In the old days there were lots of times when the rich and the grand solicitously inquired as to the health of Mr. Thomas Kearns and were graciously pleased—it used to be ‘exceedingly pleased’ or ‘eagerly anxious’ in those days—to receive him in special audience. My experience tells me that when the rich and the great and the mighty are suddenly seized with a vivid interest in my health, joined to an anxiety to see me in special audience, it is safe to gamble there are special reasons therefor. In the classic language of my day: ‘There is something doing’—some cash, or jewels, or maybe a lady gone astray and Thomas Kearns is needed to fix the difficulty, or solve the puzzle.”
“You think,” said the Professor, “that——”
“That there is some trouble at Court, or some danger which threatens the King upon his throne,” said Kearns with conviction.
“I shall not be astonished if you were right,” said General Mainwarren slowly.