The queen looked down on him. "Rise, Sir Kenneth," she said in a tone of surprise. "We welcome your presence."
Malone got up off his knee and stood, his hat in his hand.
"What is your business with us?" Her Majesty asked.
Malone looked her full in the face for the first time. He realized that her expression was rather puzzled and worried. She looked even more confused than she had the last time he'd seen her.
He took a deep breath, wished for a cigar and plunged blindly ahead into the toils of court etiquette.
"Your Majesty," he said, "I know full well that you are aware of the thoughts that I have had concerning the case we have been working on. I beg Your Majesty's pardon for having doubted Your Majesty's Royal Word. Since my first doubts, of which I am sore ashamed, I have been informed by Our Majesty's Royal Psychiatrist that my doubts were ill-founded, and I wish to convey my deepest apologies. Now, having been fully convinced of the truth of Your Majesty's statements, I have a theory I would discuss with you, the particulars of which you can doubtless see in my mind."
He paused. Her Majesty was staring at him, her face pale.
"Sir Kenneth," she said in a strained voice, "we appreciate your attitude. However—" She paused for a moment, and then continued. "However, Sir Kenneth, it is our painful duty to inform you—"
She stopped again. And when she managed to speak, she had dropped all pretense of Court Etiquette.
"Sir Kenneth, I've been so worried! I was afraid you were dead!"