"Unless after their fashion--they hush it up."

"It's a lot to hush up."

"Rather!"

"I wonder what they'll do?"

"They never do anything--Royal tact."

"They're bound to do something."

"Perhaps _she_ will." "O Lord! Yes."

"They'll suppress her. Such things have been known."

Redwood burst into desperate laughter. "The redundant royalty--the
bouncing babe in the Iron Mask!" he said. "They'll have to put her in
the tallest tower of the old Weser Dreiburg castle and make holes in the
ceilings as she grows from floor to floor! Well, I'm in the very same
pickle. And Cossar and his three boys. And--Well, well."

"There'll be a fearful row," Bensington repeated, not joining in the
laughter. "A _fearful_ row."

"I suppose," he argued, "you've really thought it out thoroughly,
Redwood. You're quite sure it wouldn't be wiser to warn Winkles, wean
your little boy gradually, and--and rely upon the Theoretical Triumph?"