George answered that down there in Med there would be, by
noon of the following day, two determined persons who, if Jarvo
would get word to them, would with perfect certainty find Mr. Otho
Holland, the king, if he were on the island. And when "Well, but
my dear fellow" occurred again, St. George replied with deference
that he knew it, but although he never had managed an airship he
fancied that perhaps he might help with one; and down there in the
harbour was a yacht waiting to sail for New York, and therefore no
one need even set foot on the island who didn't wish. And Mr.
Frothingham laid one long hand on each coat-lapel and threw back
his head until his hair rested on his collar, and he looked at the
palace--that Titan thing of the sky with ramparts of air--and
said, "Nothing in all my experience--" and St. George left him,
deep in thought.
On the way back he chanced upon Mrs. Hastings, seated on a bench of
lapidescent wood in the portico--and a Titanic portico it looked by
day--and, having sent for the palace chef, she was attempting to
write down the recipe for the salad of that day's luncheon, although
it was composed chiefly of fowls now extinct everywhere excepting in
Yaque.
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