"She insisted on more, your Majesty," groaned the major-domo.
"Am I not King?" said the monarch, and he pounded on the table so that the glasses rang.
This incident attracted every one's attention. Conversation flagged, and presently the Princess gave the signal for rising from the table. The ladies went out in advance, each turning as she left her seat and making a low courtesy to the King. Mrs. Carey was the last in the procession. As she passed through the door, her glance fell full on a man standing a little to one side, and gazing at her intently. She faltered, but only for an instant.
"Why, Mr. Jawkins, when did you arrive? Welcome to court," she cried in a cordial, conciliatory tone, holding out her hand.
Jawkins bowed stiffly, not seeming to see Mrs. Carey's hand. "Yes, I am come," he answered, "but small thanks to you, madam."
Dissimulation was not one of Jawkins's accomplishments.
"This is no place for a scene," she said, in a low tone. "If you wish an interview with me there will be an opportunity later. The drawing-room begins at ten. You will see me there." She smiled and showed her teeth ravishingly, despite the serious purport of her words.
"It is the King I wish to see, Mrs. Carey, not you," Jawkins replied significantly.
"Ah, indeed?" said the beauty, and she followed the Princess up the staircase.
The rest of the royal party remained only a few minutes in the dining-room. The King enjoyed a stroll through the corridor after dinner. He liked to chat with the habitués of the hotel and watch the billiard-players. To-night the Duke of Wellington and young Paget were in special attendance.