"Only that, with matters in such a state, he cannot long defer his return to the army of his country and the defence of its king," replied Cleek, serenely. "And every day he loses in failing to pay his respects to your humble servant in the manner he desires to do increases the strain of the situation and keeps him from the service of his royal master." "Well, I wish to God something would happen to blow him and his royal master and their blooming royal country off the map, dammem!" blazed out Narkom, too savage to be choice of words. "We've never had a moment's peace, you and I, since the dashed combination came into the game. And for what, I should like to know? Not that it's any use asking _you_. You're so devilish close-mouthed a man might as well ask questions of a ton of coal for all answer he may hope to get. I shall always believe, however, that you did something pretty dashed bad to the King of Mauravania that time you were over there on that business about the Rainbow Pearl, to make the beggar turn against you, as I believe he _has_." "Then, you will always believe what isn't true," replied Cleek, lighting a fresh cigarette. "I simply restored the pearl and his Majesty's letter to the hands of Count Irma, and did not so much as see the King while I was there. Why should I?--a mere police detective, who had been hired to do a service and paid for it like any other hireling. I took my money and I went my way; that's all there was about it. If it has pleased Count Waldemar to entertain an ugly feeling of resentment toward me, I can't help that, can I now?" "Oh, then, it's really a personal affair between you and him, after all?" "Something like that. He doesn't approve of my--er--knowing things that I do know; and it would be the end of a very promising future for him if I told. Here--have a cigarette and smoke yourself into a better temper. You look savage enough to bite a nail in two." "I'd bite it in four if it looked anything like that Waldemar johnnie, by James!" asserted the superintendent, vigorously. "And if ever he lays a hand on _you_----Look here, Cleek: I know it sounds un-English, very Continental, rotten 'soft' from one man to another, but--dammit, Cleek, I love you! I'd go to hell for you! I'd die fighting for you! Do you understand?" "Perfectly," said Cleek; then he put out his hand and took Mr. Narkom's in a hard, firm grip, and added, gently: "My friend, my comrade, my _pal_! Side by side--together--to the end." And the car ran on for a good half mile before either spoke again. CHAPTER XXXII "Mr. Narkom!" It was an hour later, and Cleek's voice broke the silence abruptly. He had taken out his notebook and had been scribbling in it for some little time, but now, as he spoke, he tore out the written leaf and passed it over to the superintendent.