So much this royal prince confided to me in our first interview; but he cared less to talk of himself than to be amused, and soon he began to question me as to my own history and adventures.
Being willing to amuse the poor fellow, and having no duties that required my attention, I passed the afternoon in relating the adventures of my brief life. These seemed to astonish him greatly, and he questioned me closely in regard to Alaska and Panama, where I had voyaged with my father and Uncle Naboth, but which he had never visited. I also told him some queer adventures of mine in Egypt, but he was more familiar with that country.
I feared to weary the young Prince with my long stories, but he would not let me go. Twice during the afternoon Dr. Gaylord came in and administered to his patient hypodermic injections of morphine, and these must have kept him free from pain, for he made no complaints and retained his bright cheerfulness until I finally insisted on leaving him.
Outside his door was the unemotional Mai Lo, standing as stiffly as a statue. The attendant saluted me with great respect and immediately entered his master’s room.
Dr. Gaylord was in the saloon smoking a cigar, and he nodded as I approached and said;
“Queer fellow, Prince Kai, isn’t he?”
“A very charming fellow, I think, Doctor.”
“Yes; and richer than Rothschild—or your Rockefeller,” he added. “You should have seen him arrayed in his native costume on board the Karamata Maru, and surrounded by his four devoted followers. He was a picture, I assure you, and dignified and gracious enough to warrant his royal blood. Everyone liked him, heathen though he is.”
“Heathen!” I echoed, surprised.
“Of course he’s a heathen. But I admit he makes you forget that, for in London and at Oxford he acquired the polish of an English gentleman. It was only when I noted the rascals surrounding him that I realized he was a Chinaman.”