"Sure!" said her brother. "You're a good guesser. I'll go and beat up
old man Poineau right away."




CHAPTER III

JOHN


Ten days after Mr. Scobell's visit to General Poineau, John, Prince of
Mervo, ignorant of the greatness so soon to be thrust upon him, was
strolling thoughtfully along one of the main thoroughfares of that
outpost of civilization, Jersey City. He was a big young man, tall and
large of limb. His shoulders especially were of the massive type
expressly designed by nature for driving wide gaps in the opposing line
on the gridiron. He looked like one of nature's center-rushes, and had,
indeed, played in that position for Harvard during two strenuous
seasons. His face wore an expression of invincible good-humor. He had a
wide, good-natured mouth, and a pair of friendly gray eyes. One felt
that he liked his follow men and would be surprised and pained if they
did not like him.

As he passed along the street, he looked a little anxious. Sherlock
Holmes--and possibly even Doctor Watson--would have deduced that he had
something on his conscience.

At the entrance to a large office building, he paused, and seemed to