Julius found himself in a plain, medium-sized apartment, having two back windows. The simple furniture consisted of a straw matting on the floor, straw-bottomed chairs ranged along the walls, window-blinds, and fire-screen of painted canvas, a single mahogany centre-table, and one arm-chair beside it in which sat Monsieur Henri De L’Ile, otherwise, his Majesty the King of the Island, who now arose and stood in an attitude of gracious dignity to receive the “Embassador.” Mr. Julius Luxmore gave one quick, comprehensive glance at this potentate. The Island King had aged much since we last heard of him. His venerable face, surrounded by its circle of snow-white hair and beard, was bleached and sunken, his imposing form was feeble and bowed; his dress was still studiously neat, and even elegant, though in the style of the last century—consisting of a somewhat faded mazarine blue velvet coat, white satin vest, white doe-skin small-clothes, white silk hose, black pumps, and diamond shoe-buckles. He stood with his right hand resting upon the table, and his left hand opened and waved—in an attitude and with an expression that in a real king might have been called royal courtesy, but that in Monsieur Henri De L’Ile, was something indescribable. Mr. Julius Luxmore found himself in a dilemma, as to the manner in which he should address this anomalous personage. Firstly, it was vitally important that this potentate should not be offended—secondly, that he should be conciliated. How should Mr. Julius Luxmore avoid the first, and effect the last? In truth, this was a serious difficulty—for should the lunatic happen to be enjoying a lucid interval, it would be insulting to address him as “Sire,” or “Your Majesty,” whereas, should he, on the other hand, chance to be still under the influence of his monomania, it would be treason and destruction to address him as Monsieur De L’Ile. Meanwhile he filled up the swiftly passing moments by slowly advancing and lowly bowing. And when he could draw no nearer he came to a stand and bowed in silence, hoping that some word or gesture on the part of his host would furnish him with the cue. Not so—for the manner of Monsieur De L’Ile, or his Majesty, might equally have been the patient politeness of a prince or of a private gentleman. Julius was almost in despair, while the necessity of speaking was imminent—he bowed for the last time and commenced: “I have the honor of addressing——” Here he paused not daring to add either—“Mr. De L’Ile,” or “His Majesty, the King of the Isles,” but waited, hat in hand, for the other party to come to his aid. The other party did nothing of the sort, but merely nodded courteously, and waited his further words. Upon the whole, Julius decided not to take up and complete his unfinished sentence, and “shirked” the difficulty by saying: “I have the honor, sir, of being the custodian of certain documents entrusted to my care by Monsieur, the late Victoire L’Orient.”