The Baron retreated a step or two. Dismay overspread his countenance. “Something wrong I knew there would be,” he boomed. “Merciful God in Heaven! He has married a black woman in Africa!” “Come, come, it’s not so bad as all that,” said Anthony, laughing. “She’s white enough—white all through, bless her.” “Good. A respectable morganatic affair it can be, then.” “Not a bit of it. She’s to play Queen to my King. It’s no use shaking your head. She’s fully qualified for the post. She’s the daughter of an English peer who dates back to the time of the Conqueror. It’s very fashionable just now for Royalties to marry into the aristocracy—and she knows something of Herzoslovakia.” “My God!” cried George Lomax, startled out of his usual careful speech. “Not—not—Virginia Revel?” “Yes,” said Anthony. “Virginia Revel.” “My dear fellow,” cried Lord Caterham, “I mean—sir, I congratulate you, I do indeed. A delightful creature.” “Thank you, Lord Caterham,” said Anthony. “She’s all you say and more.” But Mr. Isaacstein was regarding him curiously. “You’ll excuse my asking your Highness, but when did this marriage take place?” Anthony smiled back at him. “As a matter of fact,” he said, “I married her this morning.” 30 Anthony Signs on for a New Job “If you will go on, gentlemen, I will follow you in a minute,” said Anthony. He waited whilst the others filed out, and then turned to where Superintendent Battle was standing apparently absorbed in examining the panelling. “Well, Battle? Want to ask me something, don’t you?” “Well, I do, sir, though I don’t know how you knew I did. But I always marked you out as being specially quick in the uptake. I take it that the lady who is dead was the late Queen Varaga?” “Quite right, Battle. It’ll be hushed up, I hope. You can understand what I feel about family skeletons.” “Trust Mr. Lomax for that, sir. No one will ever know. That is, a lot of people will know, but it won’t get about.” “Was that what you wanted to ask me about?” “No, sir—that was only in passing. I was curious to know just what made you drop your own name—if I’m not taking too much of a liberty?” “Not a bit. I’ll tell you. I killed myself from the purest motives, Battle. My mother was English, I’d been educated in England, and I was far more interested in England than in Herzoslovakia. And I felt an absolute fool knocking about the world with a comic opera title tacked on to me. You see, when I was very young, I had democratic ideas. Believed in the purity of ideals, and the equality of all men. I especially disbelieved in Kings and Princes.” “And since then?” asked Battle shrewdly.