"When our friend Alfred suddenly became earmarked for--promotion--high promotion--I had to admit to myself that the situation was, at once, materially changed. So long as our friend Alfred was a person of only--minor importance--his visits to us might, it seemed to me, fairly be considered--merely his own affair, and ours. But when he became a person of--the first importance--of the first importance in greater issues than he appears, as yet, to have realized, his frequent visits here involved me--in a grave responsibility, to which I could not shut my eyes. A reckless young man, our friend Alfred. He did incredible things. He took amazing risks. I had to reconsider the whole position. I will not trouble you with an analysis of my conflicting motives. Ultimately I took action. I wrote a letter. "It was plain James Bond who wrote that letter--just as it is plain James Bond who is speaking at this moment. Somehow, he seems to have lost sight of his part of 'Chorus'! 'Cynthia' did not contribute a single phrase to the letter. It must have been a good letter, I think. It had an immediate result. Within less than twenty-four hours it brought a very busy, and distinguished man from town down here into our quiet backwater to see us." "The Duke?" the King exclaimed. "The Duke," Uncle Bond acknowledged. "Let there be no mistake about my position, at the outset, my boy. I am a partisan of the Duke! "The Duke and I had some talk, but he spent most of his time with Judith, and the Imps. Judith--liked him. The Imps--took to him. We gave him tea. When he left he was good enough to say that I had given him a pleasure extremely rare in the experience of an old man. I had introduced him to four new friends! He said other agreeable things. But the most important thing he said, perhaps, was that, with certain precautionary measures taken, which he himself would arrange, he saw no reason why--the gates of Paradise should be shut on a younger, and more fortunate visitor than himself.