On the afternoon of the third day out from Hong Kong we ran into a group of islands, off to the eastward of the regular course to Singapore. Just as dinner was announced a flag was waved from the bridge and, following Deverell’s eyes, I made out an answering signal on the steep side of a small island just ahead of us. We were close inshore and I scanned the bank closely but could see no sign of either a landing or an opening. I was anxious to see what was to follow but a messenger brought word that the Queen was waiting dinner for me. Deverell did not dine with us but joined us as we were having coffee. The ship slowed down while we were at dinner and finally the screw stopped. Immediately the Queen led the way to the deck, where she had ordered coffee served. “This,” she said at the head of the stairway, “is my kingdom--without a king. Isn’t it beautiful?” I was a little in doubt as to whether her inquiry related to the scenery or the absence of a male ruler, but, without being able to distinguish clearly in the gathering tropic darkness, I assured her that it was the most beautiful place I had ever seen, wherein, when day dawned, I found I had not exaggerated. We were at the head of an oval lake, perhaps a mile and a half long, with mountains, whose ascent began close to the shore, rising crescent-shaped around it. There was a small village, composed of English cottages and native huts, at the end of the lake nearest to us. On three sides of the lake was a narrow beach, which widened at the village; the fourth side, toward the sea, was a perpendicular bluff, sixty feet or more high. I searched it for the passage through which we had entered the lake but nothing could I see but a bare wall of dark rock. The Queen watched me as I studied the situation and smiled at my perplexity. “Wait until to-morrow,” she laughed. “It would never do to let you into all of our secrets at once. You had best retire early, for we will go ashore at sunrise,” and she disappeared.