"
"Well, I can't wait. I must go without it. I can't keep the King
waiting." And he opened the door of the limousine. As he stood on the
step he held a bundle of rusty weapons.
"What's that you've got?"
"Bosche daggers," he said. "See!" He held one towards her, without
letting it go from his hand.
"Where did you find those?"
"On the battlefields." He climbed down the steps.
"Stay a moment," said Fanny. "I'm in a difficulty. Will you help me?"
"What's that? But I've no time...."
"Do you know about cars?"
"I was in the trade," he nodded his head.
"I have trouble ... I cannot tell what to do. Will you come and see?"
"If it's a matter of a moment. But I must be away."
"If you leave all those things in the car you could fetch them as you
go," suggested Fanny, eyeing the daggers.
The man whistled and screwed up one eye. "When one believes in Freedom
one must go armed," he said. "Show me the car."
Going with her to the car-shed he looked at the spark-plugs of the car,
at her suggestion unscrewing three from their seatings. At the fourth he
grew tired, and said fretfully: "Now I must be off. You know I must. The
King expects me."
He walked to the gate of the yard, and she saw the men behind the gate
about to close on him. "You're not wearing your decorations!" she
called after him. He stopped, looked down, looked a little troubled.
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