They all had the sallow complexion and undue
hairiness which he had come by this time to associate with the native
of Paranoya.
For a moment he mistook them for a drove of exiled noblemen whom he had
not had the pleasure of meeting at the supper-party; and he waited
resignedly for them to make night hideous with the royal anthem. He
poised himself on his toes, the more readily to spring aside if they
should try to kiss him on the cheek.
"Mr. Bleke?" said the long man.
His companions drifted toward the cigar-box which stood open on the
table, and looked at it wistfully.
"Long live the monarchy," said Roland wearily. He had gathered in the
course of his dealings with the exiled ones that this remark generally
went well.
On the present occasion it elicited no outburst of cheering. On the
contrary, the long man frowned, and his two companions helped
themselves to a handful of cigars apiece with a marked moodiness.
"Death to the monarchy," corrected the long man coldly. "And," he added
with a wealth of meaning in his voice, "to all who meddle in the
affairs of our beloved country and seek to do it harm.
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