"I forget," he answered vaguely. "I've won so many in all these years, and they get so mis-laid--for all the world like addled eggs!" "But you've only just--" commenced Cyril. "Don't tease," said Dulcie, pulling at her brother's sleeve. And so the matter dropped. Whilst Cyril and the Fish-King were talking about the price the crown might fetch were he obliged to part with it on account of his recent financial losses, Dulcie was so busy admiring the beautiful creatures swimming about, that she stumbled and fell before her companions could warn her that the Cable was lying in her path. She was soon up, and it was the Fish-King now who was lying prone on the ground, but his attitude was intentional; he was listening intently. At a sign from him they did likewise. The billows overhead were lashing up the spray, and through the rushing sound could be vaguely heard: "Number A. 1. Sea Power! Has that nice little venture proved successful, Sire?" It was the Wizard's voice. The Twins stared at one another with startled eyes. "No, thou Cabalistic One," shouted the Fish-King, and got up with an impatient sigh, so he didn't hear what sounded like the echo of mocking laughter which the children recognised before they rejoined him. "Some one's at the bottom of that business, I'll be bound," he grumbled. "I'm afraid I'm too green, and ye gods and little fishes alone know how I manage to be, for I've a fit of the blues often enough," and he glanced at the garment he wore. "Now come and inspect my Workhouse." He led them away in silence to a small lugger, also wrecked, commandeered by his Majesty. "What a lot of residences you have, Sire," remarked Dulcie timidly, realising the situation. "One must, if one is a royalty," he replied. "I have even more than the German Emperor. I've one for eating in. One for thinking in. One for not thinking in. And a host of others. There is one which takes me eighteen hours to reach, where I go at cradle time, where the waves hush me to sleep with their lullaby--you have heard it--'Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep,' eh?" "Yes, yes," assented the Twins readily. His glum face slightly relaxed, then he continued: "It's always a matter of interest to me when my ship comes home. I don't whistle for it; I squall for it. Look out for squalls, for I feel restless, and in my family carping is our form of humour."