The King was filling his pipe now. He felt that he had earned a smoke.
"Bought any cars, lately, Blunt?" he enquired, with a merry twinkle in his eyes.
He had suddenly realized that this was Geoffrey Blunt, the nominal tenant of the garage in Lower Grosvenor Place, and the nominal purchaser of the car housed there.
Geoffrey Blunt laughed, and then blushed, as he became conscious of the liberty into which the King had betrayed him.
"We must organize one of our little incognito excursions, in the near future, Blunt, I think," the King murmured, looking out through the tall windows, on his left, at the sunny, morning glory of the garden. "We will run out into the country."
At the moment, his thoughts were in Paradise. Judith and the Imps, in all probability, would be in the hayfields—
"You must be ready for a holiday, sir," Geoffrey Blunt ventured to remark. "You took us all by surprise, this morning, sir. After yesterday, we did not expect to see you, so early, this morning, sir."
"No. And that reminds me of something I wanted to say," the King replied, looking round from the windows, and speaking with a sudden, marked change of manner. "I can see by the papers which you had waiting for me, this morning, that you people have all been keeping hard at it during the last day or two. I appreciate that. Tell your colleagues, in the next room, that I expressed my appreciation. That is all now. Let me see today's Circulations, when they do arrive. I do not want to be faced with an accumulation of papers, like this morning's, again."
Flushing with pleasure at this praise, Geoffrey Blunt bowed, and withdrew, taking the "Out" boxes with him.
The King smiled to himself as he lit his pipe.