Bowing slightly to acknowledge the obeisance of the servants, she was about to ascend the broad stairs, when the porter came forward, and said apologetically,—
“Will your Majesty pardon me? I have orders from the Minister Hinckeldeym to say that he is waiting in the blue anteroom, and wishes to see you instantly upon your arrival.”
“Then he knows of my return?” she exclaimed surprised.
“Your Majesty was expected by him since yesterday.” She saw that his spies had telegraphed news of her departure from London.
“And the King is in the palace?”
“Yes, your Majesty; he is in his private cabinet,” responded the man, bowing.
“Then I will go to him. I will see Hinckeldeym afterwards.”
“But, your Majesty, I have strict orders not to allow your Majesty to pass until you have seen his Excellency. See, here he comes!”
And as she turned she saw approaching up the long marble hall a fat man, her arch-enemy, attired in funereal, black.
“Your Majesty!” he said, bowing, while an evil smile played upon his lips. “So you have returned to us at Treysa! Before seeing the King I wish to speak to you in private.”