"Then at least you must listen——"
"Must? Must? Monsieur Smith, your bullying tone does not please me!"
Here was the beginning of a pretty row. But I had another on my own hands so I left them and went upstairs to interview the Queen.
"Come in!" she snapped when I knocked. Her voice chilled my courage and I sidled in batting my eyes ingratiatingly.
The Queen was in bed. Her hair was done up like a lady Hottentot's, all screwed into tight little kinks. Over her sharp, discontented features cold cream glistened like oleomargarine on a bun.
"I've ordered breakfast in bed," she said sharply. "Why am I kept waiting?"
I explained that there was only one waitress.
"But what of that?" she asked in astonishment. "The other guests can wait."
"Why should they wait?" I inquired, annoyed.
She shot an arrogant glance at me and started to say something but, evidently recollecting her incognito as Madame Xenos, merely choked and finally swallowed her wrath.