A gendarme had leisurely followed them from the park. He took
aside a porter and quietly plied him with questions. Evidently
the answers were satisfactory, for he at once departed.
Maurice stared at the Englishman.
"Knocks you up a bit, eh?" said Fitzgerald. "Well, I am rather
surprised myself; that is to say, I was."
"Fire away," said Maurice.
"To begin with, if I do not see the king to-morrow, it is not
likely that I ever shall."
"The king?"
"My business here is with his Majesty."
Maurice filled the glasses and pushed one across the table.
"Here's!" said he, and gulped.
Fitzgerald drank slowly, however, as if arranging in his mind
the salient points in his forthcoming narrative.
"I have never been an extraordinarily communicative man; what I
shall tell you is known only to my former Colonel and myself. At
Calcutta, where you and I first met, I was but a Lieutenant in
her Majesty's. To-day I am burdened with riches such as I know
not how to use, and possessor of a title which sounds strange in
my ears."
The dim light from the gas-jet in the room flickered over his
face, and Maurice saw that it was slightly contorted, as if by pain.
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