And he had had twinges of compunction, nervous tremors, about the deception which he had practised. He laughed contemptuously at himself. Clearly, it was he himself, and not Uncle Bond, not Judith, who had been deceived-- At that moment, Uncle Bond's returning footsteps, in the corridor, outside the room, became audible. Uncle Bond entered the room carrying a tray which was loaded with silver, and cutlery, glasses and plates, and the longnecked bottle which he had promised. He shot a shrewd glance at the King, as he crossed the room to the luncheon table; but he set down his tray, on the table, without speaking. For a moment, the King hesitated. Then he sprang up, impulsively, to his feet, and advanced to the table. Holding out the open book, which he had retained in his left hand, towards Uncle Bond, he tapped it with his right forefinger. "You know who I am, Uncle Bond?" he challenged. Uncle Bond chuckled delightedly. "I do," he acknowledged. "Get the cork out of that bottle, my boy. I've got to carve the chicken." CHAPTER XII "A climax is always a difficult business to handle," Uncle Bond continued, sitting down at the table and beginning his attack on the cold chicken. "It is easy enough to work up to. 'Cynthia' never has any trouble in getting in the necessary punch at the end of her instalments. But to carry on, after the punch, to get the next instalment going--that is a very different affair. In nine cases out of ten, that gives even 'Cynthia' herself a lot of trouble. My dear boy, put down that admirable volume--it is in your left hand!--and, I repeat myself, get the cork out of that bottle! I know you are quite unconscious of the fact, but your attitude, at the moment, is most distressingly wooden." The King came to himself with a start. "I beg your pardon, Uncle Bond," he stammered, blushing like a schoolboy. Laying "The French Revolution, A History, by Thomas Carlyle," down on the table, he picked up the longnecked bottle, and got to work, hurriedly, with the corkscrew. He was, suddenly, very glad to have something to do. "Fortunately for us, my boy, you and I can control the development of this scheme," Uncle Bond went on, busy with the carving knife and fork. "It occurs to me, by the way, that I am destined to play the part of general utility man in our--comedy. I can see no immediate opening for the knockabout comedian. A touch of the heavy father may be possible later on. But, meanwhile, explanations are necessary. Obviously that involves the general utility man in the part of 'Chorus.' Strictly speaking, I suppose I ought to address you in blank verse. I will spare you that. One of the old dramatic conventions about the 'Chorus' it seems to me, however, is likely to suit you. 'Chorus' enters solus. You can leave the stage to me--" At that moment, the cork in the longnecked bottle came away, unexpectedly, as is the habit of corks.