"Then I take it you would be glad to cancel the agreement?" he continued.
"But my thousand poonds?"
"I will advance Moore the money to repay you. Of course it is a risk, but for the sake of old times I will assume the obligation. Do you need other security than my word?"
"Not I," said McDermot, gladly. "There is your contract, Mr. Moore."
As he spoke he took the paper from his pocket and tore it into fragments. These he carefully deposited on the table and turned to go.
"One moment, Mr. McDermot," said an imperious voice.
The Prince came forward with an air of chilling dignity.
"You have made the greatest mistake of your life, sir," he continued, addressing the astounded publisher. "This I will show you if you listen. Mr. Moore, you and your fiancée have been little seen of late in the world of fashion. Pray alter this, my dear fellow. Furthermore you may as well abandon all idea of holding office in Bermuda save by deputy. It is impossible for the Poet Laureate of England to reside at such a distance from Carlton House."
"Sir!" cried Moore, unable to believe his ears. "Poet Laureate?"
"One Thomas Moore, not unknown to the literary world, an Irishman of some wit and fancy. Mr. McDermot, we need detain you no longer."