four officers, a band, and sixteen mounted carbineers. The rest of the
army was dotted along the streets. In addition to the military, there
was a gathering of a hundred and fifty civilians, mainly drawn from
fishing circles. The majority of these remained stolidly silent
throughout, but three, more emotional, cheered vigorously as a young
man was seen to step on to the gangway, carrying a grip, and make for
the shore. General Poineau, a white-haired warrior with a fierce
mustache, strode forward and saluted. The Palace Guards presented arms.
The band struck up the Mervian national anthem. General Poineau,
lowering his hand, put on a pair of _pince-nez_ and began to
unroll an address of welcome.

It was then seen that the young man was Mr. Crump. General Poineau
removed his glasses and gave an impatient twirl to his mustache. Mr.
Scobell, who for possibly the first time in his career was not smoking
(though, as was afterward made manifest, he had the materials on his
person), bustled to the front.

"Where's his nibs, Crump?" he enquired.

The secretary's reply was swept away in a flood of melody. To the band
Mr. Crump's face was strange. They had no reason to suppose that he was
not Prince John, and they acted accordingly. With a rattle of drums
they burst once more into their spirited rendering of the national
anthem.

Mr. Scobell sawed the air with his arms, but was powerless to dam the
flood.

"His Highness is shaving, sir!" bawled Mr. Crump, depositing his grip