"I should leave the first note to him," said Hyacinth. "Yes, yes, you're right. No doubt he will wish to explain how he came to be there. Just a moment, dear." He went over to his archers, who were drawn up in line again. "You may take your men down now," he said to the Captain. "Yes, your Majesty." His Majesty looked quickly round the castle walls, and then leant confidentially towards the Captain. "Er--which was the man who--er"-- he fingered his cheek--"er--quite so. The one on the left? Ah, yes." He went to the man on the left and put a bag of gold into his hand. "You have a very good style with the bow, my man. Your wrist action is excellent. I have never seen an arrow go so high." The company saluted and withdrew. The King and Hyacinth sat down to breakfast. "A little mullet, my dear?" he said. * * * * * The Hereditary Grand Chancellor of Barodia never forgot that morning, nor did he allow his wife to forget it. His opening, "That reminds me, dear, of the day when----" though the signal of departure for any guests, allowed no escape for his family. They had to have it. And indeed it was a busy day for him. Summoned to the Palace at nine o'clock, he found the King nursing a bent whisker and in the very vilest of tempers. His Majesty was for war at once, the Chancellor leant towards the Stiff Note. "At least, your Majesty," he begged, "let me consult the precedents first." "There is no precedent," said the King coldly, "for such an outrage as this." "Not precisely, Sire; but similar unfortunate occurrences have--occurred." "It was worse than an occurrence." "I should have said an outrage, your Majesty. Your late lamented grandfather was unfortunate enough to come beneath the spell of the King of Araby, under which he was compelled--or perhaps I should say preferred--to go about on his hands and knees for several weeks. Your Majesty may recall how the people in their great loyalty adopted a similar mode of progression. Now although your Majesty's case is not precisely on all fours----" "Not at all on all fours," said the King coldly. "An unfortunate metaphor; I should say that although your Majesty's case is not parallel, the procedure adopted in your revered grandfather's case----" "I don't care what _you_ do with your whiskers; I don't care what _anybody_ does with his whiskers," said the King, still soothing his own tenderly; "I want the King of Euralia's blood." He looked round the Court. "To any one who will bring me the head of the King, I will give the hand of my daughter in marriage." There was a profound silence. . . . "Which daughter?" said a cautious voice at last. "The eldest," said the King. There was another profound silence. . . . [Illustration: _He found the King nursing a bent whisker and in the very vilest of tempers_]