Two of my men found him, disguised with a handkerchief over his face, trying to escape from the castle.

And while we were looking for the King, whom we supposed was with you, they have sent the rascally Scotchman home." "Fool!" I gasped.

"Rupert of Glasgow has just left me! YOU HAVE DEPORTED YOUR OWN KING." And overcome by my superhuman exertions, I sank unconscious to the ground.
When I came to, I found myself in a wagon lit, speeding beyond the Trulyruralania frontier.

On my berth was lying a missive with the seal of the S'helpburgs.

Tearing it open I recognized the handwriting of the Princess Flirtia.
MY DEAR RUPERT,--Owing to the confusion that arises from there being so many of you, I have concluded to accept the hand of the Duke Michael.
I may not become a Queen, but I shall bring rest to my country, and Michael assures me in his playful manner that "three of a kind," "even of the same color," do not always win at poker.