“It would please us better to see the king himself. We can come again, or we can look for him on his way in and out of the hotel.”
The young man could not dissemble signs of impatience to be rid of these pertinacious intruders.
“If you have a ship to sell, or you are looking for positions, this is only wasting time,” said he. “I presume you heard something of our errand among the docks.”
“Yes, we have heard of it,” and O’Shea bit off the words. “Well, Johnny, shall we go below and wait till His Majesty heaves in sight? This minister of finance will give us no satisfaction. And I am not used to dealing with understrappers.”
“You are impertinent!” cried the young man. “I have been as courteous as possible. You will leave at once, or I shall ask the hotel management to put you out.”
Up from a chair rose the massive bulk of Johnny Kent, and his ample countenance was truculent as he roared:
“You’ll throw us out, you impudent son of a sea-cook? No, Cap’n Mike, I won’t shut up. I ain’t built that way. Diplomacy be doggoned. I’m liable to lose my temper.”
“’Tis a large-sized temper to lose, and I hereby hoist storm-signals,” said O’Shea with a grin as he neatly tripped the minister of finance, who was endeavoring to reach an electric push-button.
The fervid declamation of Johnny Kent must have echoed through the apartments. It sufficed to attract the notice of an erect, elderly gentleman in another room who opened a door and stared curiously at the strenuous tableau. At sight of the kindly, refined face with the snowy mustache and imperial, O’Shea gleefully shouted:
“The king, God bless him! So this bright young minister of finance was a liar as well as a thief!”