Then he snatched up the revolver and swung the king around
into a chair facing him, the muzzle of the gun pressed against his
face.
"Silence," he whispered.
The king, white and trembling, gasped as his eyes fell upon the face
of the American.
"You?" His voice was barely audible.
"Take off your clothes--every stitch of them--and if any one asks
for admittance, deny them. Quick, now," as the king hesitated. "My
life is forfeited unless I can escape. If I am apprehended I shall
see that you pay for my recapture with your life--if any one enters
this room without my sanction they will enter it to find a dead king
upon the floor; do you understand?"
The king made no reply other than to commence divesting himself of
his clothing. Barney followed his example, but not before he had
crossed to the door that opened into the main corridor and shot the
bolt upon the inside. When both men had removed their clothing
Barney pointed to the little pile of soiled peasant garb that he had
worn.
"Put those on," he commanded.
The king hesitated, drawing back in disgust. Barney paused,
half-way into the royal union suit, and leveled the revolver at
Leopold. The king picked up one of the garments gingerly between the
tips of his thumb and finger.
"Hurry!" admonished the American, drawing the silk half-hose of the
ruler of Lutha over his foot. "If you don't hurry," he added,
"someone may interrupt us, and you know what the result would be--to
you.
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