“You Americans are so delightfully informal,” smiled the minister of finance. “An audience is arranged beforehand if I consider it worth while.”
“But this king of yours takes a special interest in ships and sailors,” suggested O’Shea. “And we have information that he will find useful.”
Baron Frederick Martin Strothers changed color just a trifle and his manner was perceptibly uneasy as he explained:
“I am awfully sorry, but he is not in at present. He will be disappointed, I’m sure. You are shipmasters or something of the sort, I take it.”
“You guess right,” was the dry comment of O’Shea. “I have heard that ye are fond of talking to seafaring men yourself.”
The shot went home. The young man moved in his chair and looked painfully uncomfortable. Nervously twisting a cigar in his fingers, he replied:
“Ah, yes. Now I know. You must have seen me at the East India Docks.”
“There or thereabouts, but no matter,” said O’Shea. “His Majesty is not in, you say. And when will he be in the hotel again?”
“Not for several hours. He went out with the minister of foreign affairs to keep an important appointment. Will you state your business to me? That is the customary procedure.”
Johnny Kent was for denouncing the young man to his face, but O’Shea nudged him and smoothly made answer: