"He's had big ideas ever since he ran for the State Assembly. He got licked then, but this is the first time he's been kidnaped. Or should it be kanganaped? Poor Hector. I shouldn't joke about it."
Judge Helms, who was really a justice of the peace, came in through a side door and the clerk banged his gavel. But the business of the court did not get under way immediately. Someone burst in from the street and shouted:
"He's back! Civek's back!"
The people at the rear of the room rushed out to see. In a moment they were crowding back in behind Hector Civek's grand entrance.
"Oh, no," Alis said. "Don't tell me he made it this time!"
Civek was wearing the trappings of royalty. He walked with dignity down the aisle, an ermine robe on his shoulders, a crown on his head and a scepter in his right hand.
He nodded benignly about him. "Good morning, Judge," he said. To the clerk he said, "Frank, see to our horses, will you?"
"Horses?" the clerk said, blinking.
"Our royal coach is without, and the horses need attending to," Civek said patiently. "You don't think a king walks, do you?"
The clerk went out, puzzled. Judge Helms took off his pince-nez and regarded the spectacle of Hector Civek in ermine.