'Oh, quite so,' said the ex-king, 'quite so.'
'What grounds?' The ex-king permitted himself a gesture and the ghost of
a chuckle--why the devil should he chuckle? 'Practically none,' he said.
'But of course with these things one has to be so careful.'
And then again for an instant something--like the faintest shadow of
derision--gleamed out of the envoy's eyes and recalled that chilly
feeling to King Ferdinand's spine.
Some kindred depression had come to Pestovitch, who had been watching
the drawn intensity of Firmin's face. He came to the help of his master,
who, he feared, might protest too much.
'A search!' cried the king. 'An embargo on our aeroplanes.'
'Only a temporary expedient,' said the ex-king Egbert, 'while the search
is going on.'
The king appealed to his council.
'The people will never permit it, sire,' said a bustling little man in a
gorgeous uniform.
'You'll have to make 'em,' said the ex-king, genially addressing all the
councillors.
King Ferdinand glanced at the closed brass door through which no news
would come.
'When would you want to have this search?'
The ex-king was radiant. 'We couldn't possibly do it until the day after
to-morrow,' he said.
'Just the capital?'
'Where else?' asked the ex-king, still more cheerfully.
Pages:
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186