Manchurian Books

"I am Prince Roland, only son of the Emperor," the young man had said,
and he saw at once by the expression on the face of his host that, could
he be convinced of the truth of the assertion, the thousand thalers that
the Prince had demanded would be his on the instant.
For a full minute Roland thought he had succeeded, but as the surprise
died out of the merchant's countenance, there replaced it that mask of
caution which had had so much to do with the building of his fortune.
During their conference Herr Goebel cudgeled his brain, trying to
remember where he had seen this young man before, but memory had roamed
among clerks, salesmen, and industrious people of that sort where,
somehow, this young fellow did not fit in. When Roland suddenly sprung
on him the incredible statement that he was a member of the Imperial
family, the merchant's recollection then turned towards pageants he had
seen, in one of which this young stranger might very well have borne a
part. Blood was beginning to tell.
But now experience came to the merchant's aid.


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