It was a man who was walking up the road on the same side of the pavement as his own.  Marco began to walk toward him quietly but rather rapidly.  He thought it might be best to appear as if he were some boy sent on a midnight errand—­perhaps to call a doctor.  Then, if it was a stranger he passed, no suspicion would be aroused.  Was this man as tall as the one who had driven with the King?  Yes, he was about the same height, but he was too far away to be recognizable otherwise.  He drew nearer, and Marco noticed that he also seemed slightly to hasten his footsteps.  Marco went on.  A little nearer, and he would be able to make sure.  Yes, now he was near enough.  Yes, this man was the same height and not unlike in figure, but he was much younger.  He was not the one who had been in the carriage with His Majesty.  He was not more than thirty years old.  He began swinging his cane and whistling a music-hall song softly as Marco passed him without changing his pace.

It was after the policeman had walked round his beat and disappeared for the third time, that Marco heard footsteps echoing at some distance down a cross street.  After listening to make sure that they were approaching instead of receding in another direction, he placed himself at a point where he could watch the length of the thoroughfare.  Yes, some one was coming.  It was a man’s figure again.  He was able to place himself rather in the shadow so that the person approaching would not see that he was being watched.  The solitary walker reached a recognizable distance in about two minutes’ time.  He was dressed in an ordinary shop-made suit of clothes which was rather shabby and quite unnoticeable in its appearance.  His common hat was worn so that it rather shaded his face.  But even before he had crossed to Marco’s side of the road, the boy had clearly recognized him.  It was the man who had driven with the King!

Chance was with Marco.  The man crossed at exactly the place which made it easy for the boy to step lightly from behind him, walk a few paces by his side, and then pass directly before him across the pavement, glancing quietly up into his face as he said in a low voice but distinctly, the words “The Lamp is lighted,” and without pausing a second walk on his way down the road.  He did not slacken his pace or look back until he was some distance away.  Then he glanced over his shoulder, and saw that the figure had crossed the street and was inside the railings.  It was all right.  His father would not be disappointed.  The great man had come.

He walked for about ten minutes, and then went home and to bed.  But he was obliged to tell himself to go to sleep several times before his eyes closed for the rest of the night.

VIII

AN EXCITING GAME

Loristan referred only once during the next day to what had happened.

“You did your errand well.  You were not hurried or nervous,” he said.  “The Prince was pleased with your calmness.”