"You'll find the traffic difficult tonight, sir, I'm thinking," he remarked, with a hint of a London tamed Irish brogue. "They turned the people out of the parks, when the fireworks finished, a full half hour ago, but, bless you, they are in no hurry to go home. Well, it's one night in a lifetime, as you might say, isn't it, sir? And, beyond holding up the traffic, there's no harm in the people--they're just lively, that's all. There'll be a good many of them will lie in late, when they do get to bed, in the morning, I'm thinking. But the tiredest man, in all London, this night, and in the whole Empire, too, if it comes to that, I should think must be the King himself, God bless him! Did you get a good view of him, yourself, sir? I was in duty in Whitehall for the procession, and barring a yard or two, I was as close to him then, as I am, now, to you. As fine, and upstanding a young fellow, as you could wish to see, he is, too, and as like his poor dead brother, the Prince, God rest his soul! as two peas. But he looked tired, I thought. I hope they won't work him too hard, at first. He's only a young man still, and he's got his troubles before him, they say, although to look at the people, tonight, you wouldn't think so, would you? But give him his chance, and he'll do as well as his brother, the Prince, I say, for all that he's a sailor. I'm an old Guardsman, myself, sir, the same as the Prince was, but, after all, it's time you had your turn, in the Senior Service, isn't it, sir?" Busy putting on the thick leather motor coat, and adjusting the goggles, which he kept stored in the car, the King listened to the constable's garrulous, friendly talk with rich amusement, not untouched by a more serious interest. He almost wished that he could reveal his real identity to the man, and then shake hands with him. Surely the loyalty of the people had been underestimated? This garrulous police constable had a juster appreciation, and a more sympathetic understanding, of the difficulties and the dangers of his position, than he had ever imagined possible. With the constable's assistance the King closed, and re-locked the garage doors. Then he slipped a handful of loose silver into the man's not too ready palm, and sprang up into his seat at the steering wheel of the car. "Liquidate that in drinking to the King's health, constable," he directed, as he started the car. "Drink it to the frustration of all the King's enemies." All the King's enemies? His worst enemy? Himself? The man's reply was drowned by the throbbing beat of the powerful engine. A moment later, the car leapt forward, out of the dimly lit mews, swung up the quiet side street, beyond, and so passed into the densely thronged roadway in Lower Grosvenor Place.