Events would, he saw, very soon be moving fast.
About six o’clock he entered the private room of the Minister of the Royal Household, that cosy, well-remembered apartment in which Ghelardi had discovered him on his knees beside Her Royal Highness. The Minister himself was not in, but his secretary went immediately along to the private apartments and asked His Majesty for audience on Waldron’s behalf.
The request was immediately granted, and he was at once shown up the long corridor, past the sentries guarding the door leading to the royal apartments, and on into the King’s private cabinet, where His Majesty, plainly dressed in dark blue serge—for he discarded uniform whenever he could—stood eagerly awaiting him.
“Well, Waldron?” he exclaimed, stretching out his hand warmly, “I’ve been expecting you for days. Anything to report—eh?”
For answer his visitor drew out the rough memorandum from his pocket, and after brief explanation regarding its source, proceeded to read it.
His Majesty’s handsome, clear-cut face fell. He grew pale, but remained silent till the end.
Then with his hands behind his back, he strode slowly across the soft carpet to the heavily curtained window and back again.
Twice he paced the room in silence.
“Strange, Waldron!” he said, pausing and standing before the diplomat. “Very strange that you get this information, yet Ghelardi is in ignorance of what is happening?”
“He may not deem it wise to report to Your Majesty,” Hubert suggested.