hers. I always think that Gorman must have had the lady before his
eyes when he arranged the get-up of that wine.

The company prospered for a while, until the public became aware of
the quality of the wine sold. Then came a collapse. But Gorman did
pretty well out of it. The King also did pretty well. He drew fees as
a director, a special honorarium in recognition of the value of his
title, and his share of the profits. The profits were large, but he
spent all he got as he received it. Madame Corinne is an expensive
lady, and the King was just as badly off after the collapse of the
company as he had been before he became a director. He consulted
Gorman about his future. This was a very wise thing to do. Gorman
probably knows more ways of making money than any man in London.

The consultation--the true starting point of the story of the Island
of Salissa--took place in one of the King's rooms in Beaufort's.
Madame Corinne was not there. She had, I think, gone to the opera.
Gorman and the King dined well, as men do who can command the services
of the chef at Beaufort's. The wine they drank was not Vino Regalis.
After dinner they sat in front of a fire. Brandy and coffee were on a
small table set between their chairs. They smoked large and excellent
cigars.

"My friend," said the King, "I find myself in a tight place. I am, as
the English say, broke like a stone."

The King prided himself on his mastery of that esoteric English by
which the members of various sets, smart, sporting and other, conceal
the meaning of what they say from outsiders, especially from
foreigners who have acquired their knowledge of our language by
painful study of dictionaries and grammars.

"Since the wine company went on the burst," said the King, "I have not
a stiver, not a red cent, not in all my pockets the price of one
damned drink."

"If I might venture to advise you, sir," said Gorman.

"Advise? Certainly advise. But drop or, as you say in England, knock
up calling me 'sir.' I am no longer a king. I resign. I abdicate. I
chuck up the sponge of royalty. What the hell, my dear Gorman, is the
good of being a king when there are no shekels?"

"I shouldn't do that if I were you," said Gorman. "After all, royalty
is an asset. A title like that--kings aren't at all common, you
know--is worth money in the market."

The King drank a glass of brandy with an air of great dejection.

"In what market? Who will buy?"

"Well," said Gorman,