At that moment, the King suddenly realized that the driver of the taxi-cab, immediately behind him, in the queue of waiting traffic, was performing a strident obligato on his motor horn, which indicated, unmistakably, the violence of despair. Looking down with a start, he became aware, that unnoticed by him in his reverie, the block in the traffic had cleared, that the road lay open before him, and that he was holding up the long line of vehicles behind him, by his absence of mind, and consequent delay. The policeman on point duty smiled at him, reproachfully, as he succeeded, at last, in catching his eye, and then waved him forward. Flushing with momentary annoyance, at the absurdity of his position, the King hastily let out the car once again. The car leapt forward, swept round the square, and so passed into, and up, Charing Cross Road, into Tottenham Court Road beyond-- The car was heading due north now, due north for Paradise-- The King's thoughts turned naturally and inevitably to Judith, and to Uncle Bond. A difficult, and delicate problem, at once faced him. What was he to say to Judith, and to Uncle Bond? How was he to explain to them his unprecedentedly early, his almost immediate, return to their quiet haven? But that, he suddenly realized, with a shock, only touched the fringe of his problem! Sooner or later, even in their peaceful retreat, Judith and Uncle Bond would hear that the storm had broken. They would hear that Martial Law had been proclaimed. Knowing that, they would know, Judith with her knowledge of the Navy would know, that his place, as a sailor, was with his ship. And that was not all. Had he not given their address to the Duke? The Duke would be communicating with him-- His real identity would be revealed to Judith, and to Uncle Bond, at last! His incognito would no longer serve him! Somehow, it had never occurred to him, at the time, what his giving of their address to the Duke involved. Not only would his real identity be revealed at last. His intimacy with Judith, and Uncle Bond would be no longer a secret. The Duke had Uncle Bond's address. The Duke would soon know all that there was to be known about Uncle Bond--about Judith-- Yes. He would have to tell Judith, and Uncle Bond, who he was, at once, before they learnt who he was, from other lips than his. Without knowing it, he had burnt his boats; unwittingly, he had forced his own hand. Would Judith and Uncle Bond believe him? Would they resent his deception? Would the shadow thrown by his Royal rank mar the delightful spontaneity of their intercourse, as he had always feared it would? It could not be helped now, if it did! But, it seemed to him, that it need not, that it should not. The unwavering friendship, of which Uncle Bond had assured him, only that morning, would surely bear the strain? He would take Uncle Bond at his word.