hat
secretary would be wondering what had become of him. He glanced away
over the distant roofs that here and there emerged above the trees, and
then for a last look back again. And as he did so all at once he started
and uttered an acute exclamation of distress. A dark speck had suddenly
detached itself from the ball upon which the vane stood, and could now
be seen glissading with horrible swiftness down the slope of the spire.
It fell into the scaffolding, zigzagged from point to point, and
disappeared. There could be no mistake about it, it was the man himself
who had fallen: that single and minute expression of the popular will
had passed for ever from view; and the smooth and equable hum of the
unseen millions below went steadily on.

II

Fleeing from the sight still registered upon his brain the King rang for
his secretary. A figure of correctitude entered.

"There has been an accident," said his Majesty. "Over there!" He
pointed. "A steeplejack has fallen."

The secretary slid respectfully to the window and looked out. To that
polite official gaze of inquiry the scene of the tragedy returned a
blank and uncommunicative stare.

"Poor wretch!" murmured the King. "I actually saw him go! Ring up, and
inquire at the Police Center; though, of course, the poor fellow must be
dead!"

The secretary sped away on his errand, and the King, moving back to the
window, gazed fixedly at the spire, as though it could still in some way
inform him of the tragedy consummated below. Then he returned to his
desk and looked distractedly at his papers, but it was no use--back he
went to the window again.

Presently the secretary returned and stood drooping for permission to
speak. Permission came. "The man is dead, your Majesty. He was killed
instantly."

The King gave a sigh of relief. "Of course," he murmured, "from such a
height as that!" He stood for a while still cogitating on the sad event:
then he said, with that considerate thoughtfulness which habit had made
a second nature, "Be good enough to find out whether the poor fellow was
married. If so let a donation be sent to his widow,--whatever the case
seems to warrant--more if there should happen to be children."

Over his tablets the secretary bowed the beauty of his person like a
recording angel. Then he paused that the heavenly measure might be taken
with accuracy.

"Shall it be five pounds, sir?" he inquired.

"Better make it ten," said the King; "I believe t