"We have been in communication with Him," she whispered. "He will
receive you. He will give an audience to the Savior of Paranoya."
"Eh? Who will?"
"Our beloved Alejandro. He wishes to see his faithful servant. We are
to go to him at once."
"Where?"
"At his own house. He will receive you in person."
Such was the quality of the emotions through which he had been passing
of late, that Roland felt but a faint interest at the prospect of
meeting face to face a genuine--if exiled--monarch. The thought did
flit through his mind that they would sit up a bit in old Fineberg's
office if they could hear of it, but it brought him little consolation.
The cab drew up at a gloomy-looking house in a fashionable square.
Roland rang the door-bell. There seemed a certain element of the
prosaic in the action. He wondered what he should say to the butler.
There was, however, no need for words. The door opened, and they were
ushered in without parley. A butler and two footmen showed them into a
luxuriously furnished anteroom. Roland entered with two thoughts
running in his mind. The first was that the beloved Alejandro had got
an uncommonly snug crib; the second that this was exactly like going to
see the dentist.
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