"Call it whatever you like, Duke," he exclaimed. "But, for me, it is—my way of going on strike!"
And with that, he turned, and darted out of the room.
Left alone, the Duke remained motionless, for a minute or two. The smile, which the King's impulsive ingenuousness had evoked, still lingered on his lips; but his piercing eyes were clouded now, and heavy with thought.
Suddenly he turned to the writing table, and, picking up the telephone instrument, took down the receiver.
The whole manner of the man changed with this decisive little action.
There was a curt, commanding, masterful ring in his sonorous voice, as he gave his directions to the operator at the palace exchange.
"The Duke of Northborough is speaking. I want Scotland Yard, and the War Office, at once, in that order. You will give me 'priority.' Shut out all other calls."
CHAPTER X
