times, I may briefly state that the castle was lit by electricity,
bad fire-escapes on each of the turrets, four lifts, and was fitted
up by one of the best West End establishments. The sanitary
arrangements were excellent, and the drainage of the most perfect
order, as I had reason to know personally later. I was so affected
by the peaceful solitude that I lay down under a tree and presently
fell asleep. I was awakened by the sound of voices, and, looking
up, beheld two men bending over me. One was a grizzled veteran,
and the other a younger dandyfied man; both were dressed in
shooting suits.

"Never saw such a resemblance before in all my life," said the
elder man. "'Pon my soul! if the King hadn't got shaved yesterday
because the Princess Flirtia said his beard tickled her, I'd swear
it was he!"

I could not help thinking how lucky it was--for this narrative--
that the King HAD shaved, otherwise my story would have degenerated
into a mere Comedy of Errors. Opening my eyes, I said boldly:

"Now that you are satisfied who I resemble, gentlemen, perhaps you
will tell me who you are?"

"Certainly," said the elder curtly. "I am Spitz--a simple colonel
of his Majesty's, yet, nevertheless, the one man who runs this
whole dynasty--and this young gentleman is Fritz, my lieutenant.
And you are--?"

"My name is Razorbill--brother to Lord Burleydon," I replied
calmly.