“Oh yes, I did!” he replied, “We never got to Queer Street; but I found another way. I’ve been backwards and forwards several times since then. I had to be present at the Election, you know, as the author of the new Money-Act. The Emperor was so kind as to wish that _I_ should have the credit of it. ‘Let come what come may,’ (I remember the very words of the Imperial Speech) ‘if it _should_ turn out that the Warden _is_ alive, _you_ will bear witness that the change in the coinage is the _Professor’s_ doing, not _mine_!’ I never was so glorified in my life, before!” Tears trickled down his cheeks at the recollection, which apparently was not _wholly_ a pleasant one. “Is the Warden supposed to be _dead_?” “Well, it’s _supposed_ so: but, mind you, _I_ don’t believe it! The evidence is _very_ weak—mere hear-say. A wandering Jester, with a Dancing-Bear (they found their way into the Palace, one day) has been telling people he comes from Fairyland, and that the Warden died there. _I_ wanted the Vice-Warden to question him, but, most unluckily, he and my Lady were always out walking when the Jester came round. Yes, the Warden’s supposed to be dead!” And more tears trickled down the old man’s cheeks. “But what is the new Money-Act?” The Professor brightened up again. “The Emperor started the thing,” he said. “He wanted to make everybody in Outland twice as rich as he was before—just to make the new Government popular. Only there wasn’t nearly enough money in the Treasury to do it. So _I_ suggested that he might do it by doubling the value of every coin and bank-note in Outland. It’s the simplest thing possible. I wonder nobody ever thought of it before! And you never saw such universal joy. The shops are full from morning to night. Everybody’s buying everything!” “And how was the glorifying done?” A sudden gloom overcast the Professor’s jolly face. “They did it as I went home after the Election,” he mournfully replied. “It was kindly meant—but I didn’t like it! They waved flags all round me till I was nearly blind: and they rang bells till I was nearly deaf: and they strewed the road so thick with flowers that I lost my way!” And the poor old man sighed deeply. “How far is it to Outland?” I asked, to change the subject. “About five days’ march. But one _must_ go back—occasionally. You see, as Court-Professor, I have to be _always_ in attendance on Prince Uggug. The Empress would be _very_ angry if I left him, even for an hour.” “But surely, every time you come here, you are absent ten days, at least?” “Oh, more than that!” the Professor exclaimed. “A fortnight, sometimes. But of course I keep a memorandum of the exact time when I started, so that I can put the Court-time back to the very moment!” “Excuse me,” I said. “I don’t understand.” Silently the Professor drew from his pocket a square gold watch, with six or eight hands, and held it out for my inspection. “This,” he began, “is an Outlandish Watch——” “So I should have thought.”