D'Aragno stroked his chin meditatively for some minutes and then replied in a placid voice: "That at least is a reasonable and proper question, though I have not the knowledge to answer it as you could wish or might reasonably expect. I was an infant when our late king came to be crowned, and he has ceased to rule since my sojourn on the Earth—that is to say, his tenure of office must have lasted some forty years. Thus for three years or more our realm has been without a monarch, so that the whole community in all its classes has begun to clamour vigorously for a successor, and hence the task of selection wherewith I have been entrusted, and which I am now bringing to a close. Our late king was, I fear, unfortunate in his relations with our priestly or governing class, and by his own folly rendered his office a source of real danger to our whole system of administration. I have every reason to believe no such catastrophe is likely to occur in your case. Your native endowments of head and heart, combined with the additional advantages of youth and wisdom that you will obtain on your arrival in Meleager, will protect you sufficiently from such an untimely ending. Yet I warn you, you will require all your faculties, especially those of self-restraint and discretion, if you are to win and retain the good will and co-operation of that all-powerful hierarchy which is actually not only your master but in a certain sense also your creator. It used to be said in ancient Rome that two augurs could never pass in the public streets without smiling—well, you must first of all learn to repress that classical grimace, and be content to abide ever with a solemn countenance in an atmosphere of make-believe. Moreover, the desirability of such an attitude ought not to irritate a person who like yourself is filled with a divine discontent. You will be the glorious and adored figure-head of a community wherein the maximum of human happiness and content has been already attained. But I shall not pursue this dissertation further. With my warning voice ever whispering in your ears, and with your natural tact and intelligence to guide you, I am sure you will not fail. As to the length of your reign, I cannot tell you what I myself do not know. But this much I can honestly say, and that is, its duration will wholly depend on your own action, and on your relations with the senators, who alone possess the sources of power that are essential to your continued maintenance in office. For aught I know to the contrary, our priests, by means of their marvellous recipes and contrivances, may be able to prolong your life, and even your youth, indefinitely for centuries. But I do not speak with authority; I can only repeat that the extent of your reign depends very largely on your own behaviour."
"On one other matter I should also like to be informed," interposed I, "and I trust you will not condemn this question as superfluous. Tell me, why out of all the inhabitants of the Earth have I, a bankrupt in worldly glory and success, a person of mediocre attainments and the owner of no special gifts of beauty or rank, thus been chosen to fill so exalted a position? I ask from sheer curiosity, and from no subtle desire to plead my unfitness as an excuse to decline your proffered, and indeed accepted, honour."
My companion seemed to approve my question. A humorous look flitted over his features as he dryly answered: "You are fully justified in your inquiry; but you must recall that I have already mentioned that, though your world is large, my own field of choice is very limited. Our King, as I have already said, must be naturally a true Child of the Sun; in other words, he must be tall, fair, blue-eyed. This is essential, and such restrictions practically limit my search to your northern races, and mainly to such as are of Teutonic stock. Secondly, our King elect must be of middle age, for past experience and a ripe intelligence are also necessary to our plans. Thirdly, he must be either a bachelor or a widower, and preferably a misogynist at heart. He must not quit the Earth homesick; he must not be a natural prey to the influence of women, so far as it is possible to guard against this danger, the mainspring of all our fears in Meleager. For the sheer possibility of the founding of a royal race springing from the union of the Child of the Sun with a maiden of Meleager is a constant cause of alarm and watchfulness on the part of our hierarchy. Not to mention the mischief resulting from any such intrigue to our body politic, the possible birth of a Prince, a connecting link between the Divine and the Human, might in a few days, nay, in a few hours, shatter in pieces the whole edifice of the present system of government that it has taken so many centuries of unremitting wisdom and state craft to erect. Surely I need not dwell on this all-important phase? Last of all, we must have a comely personality and gentle birth combined with high intellectual gifts and training. This combination of qualities is not so easy to discover as it ought to be on your Earth. Your handsome nobles are either illiterate or debauched, and are often both simultaneously; or else they are slaves to family ties or to female influence in some form; whilst those who are both noble by birth and breeding and also highly cultivated are usually undesirable for our high purpose owing to their physical defects. In spite of all this, there are doubtless many hundreds of persons living who would be eligible and would answer to all our requirements as well as or even better than yourself; nevertheless, after much reflection I have good reason to suppose that the hierarchy of Meleager, whose envoy and servant I am, will find no cause of quarrel with my choice."
Six o'clock struck out on the foggy morning air, as d'Aragno finished speaking thus, and I grew aware of the renewed vitality pulsing once more in the surrounding London streets. "One more matter, however, I must speak of," suddenly ejaculated my host, "before we can freely discuss the final arrangements. I do not aspire to know what difference, if any, your impending transit to another planet will entail in regard to your chances of existence in the Hereafter. On your Earth, I understand, men hold the most varied and contradictory opinions and theories on this subject; and even in your Christian section of humanity I gather there is no real unanimity on this point. We in Meleager have our own ideals and beliefs in the Hereafter, but these are purely speculative, for none has ever returned to us from the domain beyond the grave to tell us the true details, and none other can supply them; we accordingly let the great question rest without laying down dogmas of necessary belief. But whether in the Other Life you will be judged or treated as a denizen of the Earth or of Meleager, I cannot imagine. I think it my duty however to remind you of this anomaly in case it may have escaped your notice, for I am well aware what strong hopes of endless happiness many members of your Christian churches build on the shadowy world yonder. From my own observations I know you yourself are fairly punctual in your religious prayers and duties, and I have always welcomed such an attitude as edifying on your part; but as to what are your real views and beliefs on the question of the Other Life I have naturally no clue. On this one matter therefore I admit you run a certain problematical risk in your translation to our star; but at the same time I cannot conceive that your future interest in an unseen, unknown, undescribed and unsubstantial world could be of sufficient import or strength to compel you to struggle against your natural desire to rule as a king in another sphere, perhaps for a stretch of time that would be out of all proportion to your earthly span of life."
He ceased suddenly, and kneeling at my feet said slowly in a suave voice that was not wholly free from irony: "And now let me tender my most respectful homage to the King elect of the planet of Meleager!"
D'Aragno then rose, and for the next hour discussed with me the necessary steps to be taken before the consummation of his mission on our Earth.
III
It was long after seven o'clock when I found myself walking home in the grey drizzle of the early morning. As was my custom when in town during the last few years I rented a bedroom at my club in St James's, and the apparition of myself in evening dress at the club doorway at that unusual hour of return evoked a momentary look of surprise on the face of the well-trained porter who was then sweeping the hall in his shirt-sleeves. Making my way up to my bed-chamber, I proceeded to carry out the first portion of my late instructions from d'Aragno. This consisted in swallowing a tumblerful of cold water in which I had previously dissolved the contents of a small packet he had given me before leaving the hotel. After that I undressed and crept into bed. On arising again I felt light as air, with the additional sensation of being several inches taller than my actual stature. My mind too had become singularly clear and active, so that I was enabled to carry out all my intended preparations with ease. First of all I placed my valuables in my trunk, which I locked; then I dressed myself in a tweed suit, and made my way downstairs to the club smoking-room, where I quietly undertook the final details I considered necessary before my departure from this world. I had no parents living; my brothers and sisters were all married and had their own homes; I had no debts, and my few outstanding bills could be easily settled by my executors, for some few years before I had signed a will that I deemed fair and adequate. There was nobody to lose in any material sense by my sudden demise; on the contrary, my brothers would obtain possession of my property, for I was the owner of a small landed estate and of a meagre income that was the source of secret but intense bitterness to me under this present oppression of plutocracy. I had therefore no more arduous task before me than to compose a letter to my favourite brother, so that he could easily infer from its contents that I had decided to make away with my life. This might have proved an unpleasant theme for composition under different circumstances, but on this occasion I experienced no difficulty in expressing myself to my own satisfaction.
This last matter accomplished, and one or two cheques to tradesmen signed and posted, I put on my overcoat and hat, and sallied out of the club towards noon. A feeling of lightness of body combined with a sense of calm exaltation of mind assisted me, as I walked slowly through the muddy streets towards the National Gallery, one of my most frequent haunts in London. Here I spent about an hour in sauntering through the huge rooms hung with the glowing works of the Old Masters, stopping occasionally to admire some special favourite, and even studying with interest a recent addition to the collection that hung on a solitary screen. Quitting the gallery, I crossed Trafalgar Square, the while sensing the gush of its fountains and gazing at Landseer's stolid lions; thence I strolled down the length of Whitehall as far as Westminster with its majestic group of Gothic towers, and after filling my eyes with its bristling outlines against the murky winter's sky, I entered the north portal of the Abbey. Here again I wandered in an erratic but pleasurable frame of mind that I vainly tried to analyse to myself, and after many pacings to and fro in the ancient cloisters, that held so many memories for me, I left the Abbey to proceed very slowly towards Charing Cross by way of the Embankment. According to our prearranged plan, I boarded a certain train that same afternoon for Dover. The journey seemed to me interminable, and as I lay back on the cushions at times I fitfully hoped for some collision that might prove fatal to me; whilst at other moments I grew morbidly nervous lest by some unforeseen accident I might be prevented from reaching my destination in good time.
I alighted at Dover about five o'clock on a raw, cold, windy, showery evening. From the station I passed into the street, and thence, in pursuance of my instructions, I followed a road leading westward. Ere long I had left behind me the suburbs of the town and was now tramping a dreary exposed thoroughfare that ran between market gardens. As I walked ahead slowly and deliberately, I suddenly saw emerge from a mean inn beside the road a short, thick-set man in seafaring dress and bearing a bundle on his shoulder. I knew him to be d'Aragno, and I continued to follow in his track. He proceeded for some distance along the high road, and then striking abruptly into a by-path amongst the dismal vegetable plots led towards the sea. The lights of Dover were now far behind me, and I realised sharply the fact that I was saying farewell to the kindly and accustomed world of men for ever and aye, and was advancing towards a doom whose nature I only dimly understood. Like Rabelais, I was stepping into the Great Perhaps; I was about to take a plunge into the ocean of the Vast Unknown.