"Wot is it?" a voice shouted.
"'E's a blarsted bush w'acker from North Hamerica, 'e is," another answered.
Jack stopped a cab and they got into it.
"Show us some of the great buildings and land us in an hour at 10 Bloomsbury Square, East," he said.
With a sense of relief they were whisked away in the stream of traffic.
They passed the King's palace and the great town houses of the Duke of Bedford and Lord Balcarras, each of which was pointed out by the driver. Suddenly every vehicle near them stopped, while their male occupants sat with bared heads. Jack observed a curious procession on the sidewalk passing between two lines of halted people.
"Hit's their Majesties!" the driver whispered under his breath.
The King--a stout, red-nosed, blue-jowled man, with big, gray, staring eyes--was in a sedan chair surmounted by a crown. He was dressed in light cloth with silver buttons. Queen Charlotte, also in a chair, was dressed in lemon colored silk ornamented with brocaded flowers. The two were smiling and bowing as they passed. In a moment the procession entered a great gate. Then there was a crack of whips and the traffic resumed its hurried pace.
"Hit's their Majesties, sir, goin' to a drawin'-room at Lord Rawdon's, sir," the driver explained as he drove on.
"Did you see the unnatural look in his gray eyes?" said Jack, turning to Solomon.