uards, who admitted no one save those who presented proper
credentials.

"There's only one thing to do;" thought Rob, "and that's to walk
straight in, as I haven't any friends to give me a regular
introduction."

So he boldly advanced to the gate, where he found himself stopped by
crossed carbines and a cry of "Halt!"

"Excuse me," said Rob; "I'm in a hurry."

He pushed the carbines aside and marched on. The soldiers made thrusts
at him with their weapons, and an officer jabbed at his breast with a
glittering sword, but the Garment of Repulsion protected him from these
dangers as well as from a hail of bullets that followed his advancing
figure.

He reached the entrance of the palace only to face another group of
guardsmen and a second order to halt, and as these soldiers were over
six feet tall and stood shoulder to shoulder Rob saw that he could not
hope to pass them without using his electric tube.

"Stand aside, you fellows!" he ordered.

There was no response. He extended the tube and, as he pressed the
button, described a semi-circle with the instrument. Immediately the
tall guardsmen toppled over like so many tenpins, and Rob stepped
across their bodies and penetrated to the reception room, where a
brilliant assemblage awaited, in hushed and anxious groups, for
opportunity to obtain audience with the king.

"I hope his Majesty isn't busy," said Rob to a solemn-visaged official
who confronted him. "I want to have a little talk with him."

"I--I--ah--beg pardon!" exclaimed the astounded master of ceremonies.
"What name, please?"

"Oh, never mind my name," replied Rob, and pushing the gentleman aside
he entered the audience chamber of the great king.

King Edward was engaged in earnest consultation with one of his
ministers, and after a look of surprise in Rob's direction and a grave
bow he bestowed no further attention upon the intruder.

But Rob was not to be baffled now.

"Your Majesty," he interrupted, "I've important news for you. A big
fight is taking place in South Africa and your soldiers will probably
be cut into mince meat."

The minister strode towards the boy angrily.

"Explain this intrusion!" he cried.

"I have explained. The Boers are having a regular killing-bee. Here!
take a look at it yourselves."

He drew the Record from his pocket, and at the movement the minister
shrank back as if he suspected it was an infernal machine and might
blow his head off; but the king step