"Everything is going well. Please put yourself entirely in the hands of Dr Sforelli, the bearer of this, who has full instructions from the Society. I am so busy, I may not see you again till you are crowned. "ARNOLFO." Norman, looking at the Palestinian profile before him, felt that the spring had left the year. The gay youth, with his wit and plots and disguises, would make anyone believe or even do anything. While this worthy? The transition from Greece eastwards was overpowering. Yet one could see this swarthy, powerful person was to be trusted, more to be trusted than Arnolfo. Norman burst into a flood of practical questions. "We shall just walk there," came the answer to Norman's first batch of inquiries. "I often go to the palace, as I live quite near, in the square: I have a dissecting room there: my wife objects to having corpses in the house." "Dissecting? In Alsander?" "Yes," replied the doctor, in hollow tones. "It was expensive getting corpses in pickle from Paris. So I advertised in the _Centjaro,_ the little local paper you may have seen, the one that hints so broadly that the King of Alsander is already in the town incognito." "But with success? Surely, in such a religious country...." "There was money offered," continued Sforelli, dryly. "My door was besieged. I am not sure I was not responsible for murder, even for parricide. Some of those whose near relations were rejected went away in tears." "Well, Doctor Sforelli, to the point. This mad central idea you are sure of--that no one has seen the King; but what about the guards?" "The guards are with us." "But why should they be with us?" "They are sensible men, for one thing. They are very old servants of Arnolfo's, for another." "Then Vorza?" "He has never seen the King, you know that already." "And the other notables?" "All the members of the Town Council, which is the progressive element in Alsander, are with us. For all that, none of them have seen Andrea." "But has there been no ceremony? For instance, was Andrea never crowned?" "Yes, but with little pomp. There was only the Bishop there and myself. He was crowned in the empty room." "And the Bishop?" "Is fortunately dead. No one lives but myself who saw that mock coronation and a small acolyte who is now one of the most able young men of our party. The people were kept outside, but I remember they applauded, none the less. But the only person who was really impressed was the King himself. It meant a great deal to him, that shabby ceremonial!" "What has given the King that antique form of speech?" pursued Norman. "Before his mind left him, he had as a boy read one book--that of Makso." "A! a great book!" cried Norman. "There is real fire in his tales of chivalry."