These defiled leisurely toward the strangers and lined up irregularly at the foot of the steps.
"Enter Trouble," said Amory happily.
They found themselves confronting, in the midst of the attendants, an olive man with no angles, whose face, in spite of its health and even wealth of contour, was ridiculously grave, as if the _papier-mache_ man in the down-town window should have had a sudden serious thought just before his _papier-mache_ incarnation.
"Permit me," said the man in perfect English and without bowing, "to bring to you the greeting of his Highness, Prince Tabnit, and his welcome to Yaque.

I am Cassyrus, an officer of the government.

At the command of his Highness I am come to conduct you to the palace." "The prince is most kind," said St.George, and added eagerly: "He is returned, then ?" "Assuredly.

Three days ago," was the reply.
"And the king--is he returned ?" asked St.George.
The man shook his head, and his very anxiety seemed important.
"His Majesty, the King," he affirmed, "is still most lamentably absent from his throne and his people." "And his daughter ?" demanded St.George then, who could not possibly have waited an instant longer to put that question.
"The daughter of his Majesty, the King," said Cassyrus, looking still more as if he were having his portrait painted, "will in three days be recognized publicly as Princess of Yaque." St.George's heart gave a great bound.

Thank Heaven, she was here, and safe.