Truxton King

"Your Grace!" interrupted Baron Dangloss sharply.

"Uncle Jack's all right," declared the Prince, vaguely realising that a defence should be forthcoming.

"He is, eh?" rasped the exasperated Duke, mopping his brow.

"He sure is," pronounced the Prince with a finality that left no room for doubt. They say that fierce little Baron Dangloss, in striving to suppress a guffaw, choked so impressively that there was a momentary doubt as to his ever getting over it alive.

"He is a mountebank--a meddler, that's what he is. The sooner we come to realise it, the better," exclaimed the over-heated Duke. "He has greater influence over our beloved Prince than any one else in the royal household. He has no business here--none whatsoever. His presence and his meddling is an affront to the intelligence of--"

But the Prince had slid down from his pile of books and planted himself beside him so suddenly that the bitter words died away on the old man's lips. Robin's face was white with rage, his little fists were clenched in desperate anger, his voice was half choked with the tears of indignation.

"You awful old man!" he cried, trembling all over, his eyes blazing. "Don't you say anything against Uncle Jack. I'll--I'll banish you--yes, sir--banish you like my mother fired Count Marlanx out of the country. I won't let you come back here ever--never. And before you go I'll have Uncle Jack give you a good licking. Oh, he can do it all right. I--I hate you!"

The Duke looked down in amazement into the flushed, writhing face of his little master. For a moment he was stunned by the vigorous outburst. Then the hard lines in his face relaxed and a softer expression came into his eyes--there was something like pride in them, too. The Duke, be it said, was an honest fighter and a loyal Graustarkian; he loved his Prince and, therefore, he gloried in his courage. His own smile of amusement, which broke in spite of his inordinate vanity, was the sign that brought relief to the hearts of his scandalised confrères.

"Your Highness does well in defending a friend and counsellor," he said gently. "I am sorry to have forgotten myself in your presence. It shall not occur again. Pray forgive me."

Prince Bobby was still unappeased. "I could have you beheaded," he said stubbornly. "Couldn't I, Uncle Caspar?"

Count Halfont gravely informed him that it was not customary to behead gentlemen except for the most heinous offences against the Crown.