They went into the other room where the Emperor sat waiting. Evidently impatient that Edestone was not at his position of parlour entertainer in front of the screen with his pointer in hand as soon as the Imperial eye should deign to be cast in that direction, he rose with exaggerated politeness when the American appeared and said in a most sarcastic manner: “Must the whole world wait while inventors dream?”
Then sitting down he added in a harsh and irritable tone: “With your very kind assistance, Mr. Edestone, we will now inspect these much talked of pictures.”
There was a silence in the room that was like a gasp of horror, and the company all standing looked as if they expected to see Edestone sink to the floor with mortification; that is, all except Jones, who slow-moving had only gotten half-way to his feet when the Kaiser sat down, and who now dropped back into his chair with a quizzical little smile playing about the corners of his mouth.
But Edestone, with the respectful manner of a grown man answering his father, who still looked upon him as a boy, and who had reproved him unjustly, said with an indulgent smile that bore no trace of resentment:
“I beg that Your Majesty will forgive me, but I was held prisoner by General von Lichtenstein, and not until I waved the Stars and Stripes would he let me go.”
The General hurried over to the Emperor. “Pardon me, Sire,” he said, for he saw that the Emperor would fly into one of his fits of rage and might upset all of their well-laid plans if something was not quickly done to quiet him. “Pardon me, Sire, it was my fault. I did not know that I was keeping Your Majesty waiting.”
“Go on with the pictures,” said the Emperor, with an impatient gesture of his enormous right hand, and he sat glaring at the screen as the lights went out.