No sooner did he open his eyes than he saw heroic Peterkin above him, fists clenched and anger in his eyes.
“Ow, ow,” chattered he, his red gums bobbing with fear and chill, “don’t threaten me! Why do you clinch your fists at me, eh? I’ve never met you before, have I?”
Peterkin laughed scornfully. “What a lie! Don’t you remember who it was who brought you into these Four Kingdoms, not so long ago, astride of a flying shell? Don’t you remember whom you tried to fling off, down to a crashing death? What! don’t remember me?”
The old man grew green with fright. He wrung his thin, crooked fingers. “I—I thought—I thought you were dead,” he moaned. “I didn’t dream of your escaping death ... dear, oh dear, I suppose you’ll kill me now, eh? Well, just let me tell you my story, first—oh, please, let me tell it—please, please, please!”
And, of course, who could resist such pleading? Certainly not Peterkin, who folded his arms sternly and waited for the end of the tale.
XXVI
THE VILLAIN’S STORY
“ONCE,” began the old villain, “I was as young and as happy-hearted as you are, stranger. For I was handsome, rich and powerful. I was noble—aye, more than noble—for I was a prince of the court of the Four Kingdoms. I was the son of the King’s older brother—and some said that I, not he, should be the king upon the jeweled throne.
“This thought was like a flame to me. It burned and flared within my mind in jealous heat; I came to wish for my royal cousin’s death, so that I might succeed him to the honor of all honors of the kingdoms. I took a secret oath that ere I grew much older, I should murder him. Hee, hee, that’s the extraordinary sort of a villain I was!