"Good idea!" said the Unwiseman. "That'll save postage and it'll get to the King right away instead of having to be read first by one of his Secretaries."
So it happened that that night the Unwiseman climbed up to the roof of the hotel and sent the following wireless telegram to the King:
My dear Mr. King:
That tailor of yours seems to think he's a Grand Duke in disguise. In the first place he wanted me to pay over seven thousand dollars for a Duke's suit and when I asked him the price of a Knight-gown he told Jorrocks to show me the door, which I had already seen and hadn't asked to see again. He's a very imputinent tailor and if I were you I'd bounce him as we say in America. Furthermore they sell bogus muffins up at that specially appointed bake-shop of yours. I think you ought to know these things. Nations have gone to war for less.
Yours trooly,
The Unwiseman.
P.S. I've been thinking about that Duke proposition and I don't think I care to go into that business. Folks at home haven't as much use for 'em as they have for sour apples which you can make pie out of. So don't do anything further in the matter.
"There," said the Unwiseman as he tossed this message off into the air. "That saves me $8.50 anyhow, and I guess it'll settle the business of those bogus muffin people and that high and mighty tailor."