"For three years," began the Englishman, "I have been England's
representative here. As a representative I could not meddle with
your affairs, though it was possible to observe them. To-day I
am an unfettered agent of self, and with your permission I shall
talk to you as I have never talked before and never shall again."

The diplomat rose from his seat and walked up and down the path,
his hands clasped behind his back, his chin in his collar. The
bulldog yawned, stretched himself, and followed his master,
soberly and thoughtfully. After a while the Englishman returned
to his chair and sat down. The dog gravely imitated him. He
understood, perhaps better than the king, his master's mood.
This pacing backward and forward was always the forerunner of
something of great importance.

During the past year he had been the repository of many a secret.
Well, he knew how to keep one. Did not he carry a secret which
his master would have given much to know? Some one in far away
India, after putting him into the ship steward's care, had
whispered: "You tell the governor that I think just as much of
him as ever." He had made a desperate effort to tell it the
moment he was liberated from the box, but he had not yet
mastered that particular language which characterized his
master's race.

"To begin with," said the diplomat, "what would your Majesty say
if I should ask permission to purchase the entire loan?"