not be a protracted
one. It seems we are hopelessly at variance. You, Sir Charles," he
continued, turning to the First Sea Lord, who was in attendance, "are
still in favour of a naval expedition?"

"Send it up at once," said Sir Charles.

"Up where?" asked the Premier.

"Up anything," answered the Old Sea Dog, "it will get there."

Voices of dissent were raised in undertones around the table.

"I strongly deprecate any expedition," said the Chancellor of the
Exchequer, "I favour a convention with the Shriek. Let the Shriek sign a
convention recognizing the existence of a supreme being and receiving
from us a million sterling in acknowledgment."

"And where will you _find_ the Shriek?" said the Prime Minister. "Come,
come, gentlemen, I fear that we can play this comedy no longer. The
truth is," he added with characteristic nonchalance, "we don't know
where the bally place is. We can't meet the House to-morrow. We are
hopelessly split. Our existence as a Government is at an end."

But, at that very moment, a great noise of shouting and clamour rose
from the street without. The Prime Minister lifted his hand for silence.
"Listen," he said. One of the Ministers went to a window and opened it,
and the cries outside became audible. "A King's Messenger! Make way for
the King's Messenger!"

The Premier turned quietly to Sir John.

"Perriton Powers," he said.

In another moment Perriton Powers stood before the Ministers.

Bronzed by the tropic sun, his face was recognizable only by the assured
glance of his eye. An Afghan _bernous_ was thrown back from his head and
shoulders, while his commanding figure was draped in a long _chibuok_. A
pair of pistols and a curved _yasmak_ were in his belt.

"So you got to Wazuchistan all right," said the Premier quietly.

"I went in by way of the Barooda," said Powers. "For many days I was
unable to cross it. The waters of the river were wild and swollen with
rains. To cross it seemed certain death----"

"But at last you got over," said the Premier, "and then----"

"I struck out over the Fahuri desert. For days and days, blinded by the
sun, and almost buried in sand, I despaired."

"But you got through it all right. And after that?"

"My first care was to disguise myself. Staining myself from head to
foot with betel nut----"

"To look like a beetle," said the Premier. "Exactly. And so you got to
Wazuchistan. Where is it and what is it?"

"My lord," said Powers, drawing