Dan reflected, sadly humorous, that it would be like Gaston of the Beard to utilize a razor strop for any purpose save the one for which it had been intended. But the girl’s complaint annoyed him.
“Oh, don’t bother about Graves!” he urged. “He isn’t awake yet. He thinks he’s seeing things at night.”
“The man stares at me,” Tamea complained. “He is saying to himself: ‘What right has this girl with my master?’ I know. Yes, you bet.”
“Graves,” said Dan wearily, “you are, I fear, permitting yourself a liberty. Wake up, get out of here and in behind the wheel. And by the way, Graves, hereafter you will be subject to the orders of Miss Larrieau. In her own country Miss Larrieau is a queen and accustomed to the most perfect service from everybody with whom she comes in contact. I expect, therefore, that you will remember your manners. Driving for a bachelor is very apt, I quite realize, to make any chauffeur careless, but from now on, Graves, whenever Queen Tamea of Riva craves snappy service, see that she gets it. I should regret very much the necessity for flaying you with a razor strop.”
“Lay forward, you,” Tamea commanded. “What business have you aft? Your place is in the fo’castle, not the cabin.”
Fortunately, Graves was blessed with a sufficient sense of humor to respond humbly: “Beg pardon, Your Majesty. I didn’t mean to get fresh. As the boss says, wakin’ me up sudden like that scared me sorter.”
He carefully drew the curtains in the rear, on both sides and in front, for, notwithstanding his cavalier manner in the presence of royalty, Graves was more than passing fond of his employer and desired to spare the latter the humiliation of being seen with a lady of uncertain lineage and doubtful social standing riding in public with him in his limousine. Graves was fully convinced that his master suddenly had gone insane, and as a result it behooved him now, more than ever before, to render faultless service. He wondered where the Queen was taking the boss or where the boss was taking the Queen; already he was resolved to drive them through streets rarely frequented by the people who dwelt in Dan Pritchard’s world.
Tamea’s haughty voice disturbed his benevolent thoughts.
“Are you ashamed to ride with me, Dan Pritchard?”
“Certainly not, my dear girl. Graves, how dare you draw those curtains without permission? I’ll skin you alive for this!”