George A. Birmingham

“ He pointed to the boat. He waved his arms wildly.
“Buck up,” he shouted, “it is—I will eat my hat—it is Corinne! She comes to me!”
“Nonsense,” said Gorman. “That’s Miss Donovan’s boat. She’s coming home for dinner. Sit down and don’t get excited.”
“I am sorry,” said the King, “but I cannot. It is impossible for me to keep on my hair when Corinne is coming.”
“Corinne isn’t coming,” said Gorman. “How could she?”
“I see her. I see her. The dickens, and Great Jupiter, my eyes see her.”
“You can’t tell one woman from another at that distance. What you see is either Miss Donovan or Kalliope.” ”

“ The boat drew rapidly nearer. Gorman stared at her.
“There are three women,” he said. “I wonder who the other is.”
“Corinne. Corinne,” said the King.
To Gorman’s amazement the King was right. The boat reached the landing steps. In her were the Queen, Kalliope and a very dishevelled Madame Ypsilante. That lady was never, at any time of her life, an outdoor woman. When she travelled it was in the wagons-lits of trains-de-luxes, and in specially reserved cabins of steamers. Her journey to Salissa had been performed in far less luxurious ways and her appearance had suffered. ”

“ There is the charming Miss Donovan.”
“That’s it,” said Donovan. “If it were simply a matter of Gorman and me—— I don’t like saying these things—but——”
“But you are right,” said the King. “Right as nails. Corinne must go. But I go with her. To-morrow we depart, she and I. We take a boat. I row with oars. We fly. The navy of Megalia pursues. It overtakes. Good. We die. Perhaps the navy mistakes. It pursues by another route, a way we have not gone. Good. We live. Either way you shut us. No. We shut you. No. I have it. We are shut of us.”
“That’s rather a hopeless programme,” said Gorman. ”