brothers had already guessed, he had made the acquaintance of their father, the earl, under the pretext of renting Dealle Castle.
“But how did you find out that it was our family which was meant by the prophecy?” demanded Tollemache.
“Nothin' to that, old cocky wax! The Babu, 'e cybles me a description of the escutcheon wot is on this 'ere old English blyde wot the princess 'as, and so I and a sandy-'aired gent wot's my confidential secretary does a bit of lookin' through the peerage and the orfice of 'eraldry, until we finds this 'ere escutcheon—a double-'eaded eagle, ain't it? You know the rest!”
“I do,” smiled Hector, “but you don't!”
“Wot you mean?”
“That you are going to cable over to London, to that secretary of yours, and have him put a full page advertisement in all the London dailies and the more important provincial papers, with a complete confession of what you did.”
“I won't,” said Mr. Preserved Higgins.
“You will,” rejoined Hector, pointing through the iron-barred window at the palace courtyard where Wahab al-Shaitan, resplendent in his crimson-and-black robe, his two-handed sword across his supple shoulders, was saying light words of love to Kumar Zaida, the little slave girl.
“Right-oh!” said Mr. Preserved Higgins. “I will!”
Thus it happened that a sandy-haired gentleman, the next morning, looking from the fly-specked window, at the gray, coiling streets of London City,
