“To be sure,” he answered. “As you wish. You will always be welcome ’ere, but I understand your feeling. I fear you ’ave not tasted the pleasures of Alaria.”
“Oh,” John protested. “Really, now! I’ve never had a better time in my life.” He was grinning like a naughty boy who expects to be reproved. “I’d like to stay. There is a job here I should like to have, and I happen to know it is open.”
“Good,” Conrad said, smiling at his enthusiasm. “And what is your choice?”
John answered quickly, “I should like to be the Black Ghost.”
Prince Conrad laughed at that, appreciatively. “Ah,” he said, “but unfortunately you ’ave been misinformed. That post is not open.”
“Neither,” John said pointedly, “is the throne of Alaria.”
Conrad laughed again. “Under similar circumstances, I wish you all success—” he said, and would have said more except that John broke into his speech.
“Good-bye to your Majesties,” he cried, and started for the door, dragging me with him. We were through it before I caught my breath.
“You’ll tear my sleeve off,” I protested. “Don’t slam that door, this is a palace. What’s the matter, anyway? Where are you going?”
“You don’t know where we’re going?” John laughed. “I can’t drive a car with this arm.” He was piloting me down long corridors and back and forth among servants and guards who stared but did not interfere. “We’re going to Katerina, of course, and you have to do the driving. Come along.”