"How did you escape?" I inquired. "The paper says—"
"Says that Rah the Righteous is about done?" he interrupted. "Well, there isn't so very much left of him. There wouldn't have been even mince meat if that mob had gotten me. It was a mighty close call."
He paused, mopped his brow once more, and continued.
"By God! When I heard the rabble streaming through the streets, crying for my blood, you can believe me, old man, I was scared. I had to think fast! I took just about the quickest shave of my life, cutting off my red hair and whiskers. Then I pasted them on a dummy, which I placed near the palace entrance. While the mob was storming the gates, trying to get at that old scarecrow, I slipped on these binoculars and hood, dressed in servant's clothes, went out by the back entrance, mixed with the mob, and even joined in yelling, 'Down with Rah the Righteous!' and finally escaped through a side-gallery and took a 'scootscoot' here. I've been all night at it! At the border of Wu I had a tussle with some sentries and laid three of them flat before I made my get-away. That explains my nice society appearance, old pal."
With a rueful grimace, he looked down at his torn, blood-spattered clothes.
"Well, don't mind that, Phil, old boy!" I said, coming to him and slapping him heartily on the shoulder. "I'll look out for you now. We've stuck together most of our lives, and I guess we can stick it out just a little longer."
Yet, even as I uttered these words, I realized how embarrassing it would be for me to be found sheltering the runaway Dictator of Zu.