Leaving the would-be assassin struggling and biting in the grasp of the stalwart policeman, and the other policeman unhappily holding the bomb at arm's length, Philip sought to escape into the Ritz.

But the young King broke through the circle of attendants and stopped him.
"I must thank you," said the boy eagerly; "and I wish you to tell me how you came to suspect the man's purpose." Unable to speak the truth, Philip, the would-be writer of fiction, began to improvise fluently.
"To learn their purpose, sir," he said, "is my business.

I am of the International Police, and in the secret service of your Majesty." "Then I must know your name," said the King, and added with a dignity that was most becoming, "You will find we are not ungrateful." Philip smiled mysteriously and shook his head.
"I said in your secret service," he repeated.

"Did even your Majesty know me, my usefulness would be at an end." He pointed toward the two policemen.

"If you desire to be just, as well as gracious, those are the men to reward." He slipped past the King and through the crowd of hotel officials into the hall and on into the corridor.
The arrest had taken place so quietly and so quickly that through the heavy glass doors no sound had penetrated, and of the fact that they had been so close to a possible tragedy those in the corridor were still ignorant.