"What d'you mean, Perry?" she asked.
"What I say, Henrietta. Mr. Harrison has his orders."
Had the Emperor been speaking of certain secret commands laid by him upon a professional assassin his voice could not have been more fiercely sinister. The blood of the Empress almost ran cold.
"No, they never do that to me!" bellowed the orchestrion.
"What orders, Perry? Orders to do what?"
"Ah!" said the Emperor, wagging his massive head passionately from one side to the other, while his eyes stared as if in contemplation of some terrible picture. "Let them try it on! Let them only try it, and they will repent it, Henrietta, to the last day of their natural lives!"
"Perry!" said the Empress impressively, "what are you going for to do?"
"My duty to you and to the home."
"What! then the Londoners ain't coming?"
"Are not, my dear," said the Emperor in courtly correction. "Yes, come they must, for I've given my word to the fiddle-faced feller. But, as I say, Mr. Harrison has his orders to keep his eye on them, day in, day out, morning, noon and night."