Rob reached the entrance of the palace, only to face
another group of guardsmen
"Stand aside, you fellows!" he ordered.
There was no response. He extended the tube and, as he pressed the button, described a semi-circle with the instrument. Immediately the tall guardsmen toppled over like so many tenpins, and Rob stepped across their bodies and penetrated to the reception room, where a brilliant assemblage awaited, in hushed and anxious groups, for opportunity to obtain audience with the king.
"I hope his Majesty isn't busy," said Rob to a solemn-visaged official who confronted him. "I want to have a little talk with him."
"I—I—ah—beg pardon!" exclaimed the astounded master of ceremonies. "What name, please?"
"Oh, never mind my name," replied Rob, and pushing the gentleman aside he entered the audience chamber of the great king.
King Edward was engaged in earnest consultation with one of his ministers, and after a look of surprise in Rob's direction and a grave bow he bestowed no further attention upon the intruder.
But Rob was not to be baffled now.
"Your Majesty," he interrupted, "I've important news for you. A big fight is taking place in South Africa and your soldiers will probably be cut into mince meat."