“Was it ever Mr. Preemby?” asked the doctor.
“That does not matter now. That is of no importance now.”
“It may be of some importance,” said the pasty-faced man.
“And now you’re a King or a Lord or something and you own the world?” said the doctor.
Sargon made no answer. He felt he was in a net.
The doctor turned to Jordan and beckoned him in a whisper. Only one sentence came to Sargon’s ears. “’Iggs ’eard it,” said Mr. Jordan.
“Aren’t you called Sargon the Magnificent?” asked the doctor.
Sargon bent his head in sorrow. “Better were it to call me Sargon the Unworthy. For in many things I have failed.”
The pasty-faced man looked at the doctor. “Haven’t we had about enough of this?”
“My conclusions are clear,” said the doctor. “In fact, I have the certificate ready.”