“My dear Narkom, I don’t see where the uncanny element comes in, I must confess,” replied Cleek with an indulgent smile.  “Surely an Englishman must always feel a certain amount of interest in Mauravian affairs.  Have the goodness to remember that there should be an Englishman upon that particular throne.  Aye, and there would be, too, but for one of those moments of weak-backed policy, of a desire upon the part of the ‘old-woman’ element which sometimes prevails in English politics to keep friendly relations with other powers at any cost.  Brush up your history, Mr. Narkom, and give your memory a fillip.  Eight-and-thirty years ago Queen Karma of Mauravania had an English consort and bore him two daughters, and one son.  You will perhaps recall the mad rebellion, the idiotic rising which disgraced that reign.  That was the time for England to have spoken.  But the peace party had it by the throat; they, with their mawkish cry for peace—­peace at any price!—­drowned the voices of men and heroes, and the end was what it was!  Queen Karma was deposed—­she and her children fled, God knows how, God knows where—­fled and left a dead husband and father, slain like a hero and an Englishman, fighting for his own, and with his face to the foe.  Avenge his death?  Nonsense, declared the old women.  He had no right to defy the will of Heaven, no right to stir up strife with a friendly people and expect his countrymen to embroil themselves because of his lust for power.  It would be a lasting disgrace to the nation if England allowed a lot of howling, bloodthirsty meddlers to persuade it to interfere.

“The old women had their way.  Queen Karma and her children vanished; her uncle Duke Sforza came to the throne as Alburtus III., and eight months ago his son, the present King Ulric, succeeded him.  The father had been a bad king, the son a bad crown-prince.  Mauravania has paid the price.  Let her put up with it!  I don’t think in the light of these things, Mr. Narkom, there is any wonder that an Englishman finds interest in reading of the affairs of a country over which an Englishman’s son might, and ought to, have ruled.  As for me, I have no sympathy, my friend, with Mauravania or her justly punished people.”

“Still, my dear fellow, that should not count when the reward for taking up this case is so enormous—­and I dare say it will not.”

“Reward?  Case?” repeated Cleek.  “What do you mean by that?”

“That I am here to enlist your services in the cause of King Ulric of Mauravania,” replied Narkom, impressively.  “Something has happened, Cleek, which, if not cleared up before the coronation day—­now only one month hence, as you must have read—­will certainly result in his Majesty’s public disgrace, and may result in his overthrow and death!  His friend and chief adviser, Count Irma, has come all the way from Mauravania, and is at this moment downstairs in this house, to put the case in your hands and to implore you to help and to save his royal master!”