"I suppose so," lugubriously. "It's too much to expect him to meet me with bare fists. Oh, Hobbs, I wish we could arrange it for bare knucks!" He delivered a mighty swing at an invisible adversary. Hobbs's hat fell off with the backward jerk of surprise.
"Oh, my word!" he exclaimed admiringly, "wot a punch you've got!"
Later on, much of his good humour was restored and his vanity pleased by a polite request from Count Halfont to attend an important council in the "Room of Wrangles" that evening at nine.
Very boldly he advanced upon the Castle a few minutes before the appointed hour. He went alone, that he might show a certain contempt for Count Vos Engo. Notwithstanding the fact that he started early enough for the Chamber, he was distressingly late for the meeting.
He came upon Loraine Tullis at the edge of the Terrace. She was walking slowly in the soft shadows beyond the row of lights on the lower gallery. King would have passed her without recognition, so dim was the light in this enchanted spot, had not his ear caught the sound of a whispered exclamation. At the same time the girl stopped abruptly in the darkest shadow. He knew her at a glance, this slim girl in spotless white.
"Loraine!" he whispered, reaching her side in two bounds. She put out her hands and he clasped them. A quick, hysterical little laugh came from her lips. Plainly, she was confused. "I've been dying for a glimpse of you. Do you think you've treated me--"
"Don't, Truxton," she pleaded, suddenly serious. She sent a swift glance toward the balconies. "You must not come here. I saw--well, you know. I was so ashamed. I was so sorry."
He still held her hands. His heart was throbbing furiously.
"Yes, they ordered me to move on, as if I were a common loafer," he said, with a soft chuckle. "I'm used to it, however. They ran me out of Meshed for taking snapshots; they banished me from Damascus, and they all but kicked me out of Jerusalem--I won't say why. But where have you kept yourself? Why have you avoided me? After getting the Prince to parade me in front of your windows, too. It's dirt mean, Loraine."
"I have been ill, Truxton--truly, I have," she said quickly, uneasily.
"See here, what's wrong? You are in trouble. I can tell by your manner. Tell me--trust me."
"I am worried so dreadfully about John," she faltered.
"That isn't all," he declared. "There's something else. What promise did you make to Vos Engo last Saturday after--well, if you choose to recall it--after I brought you back to him--what did you promise him?"