Page:The Yellow Book - 08.djvu/144

in connection with Colonial politics, who is now acting as cicerone and interpreter to the Raja of Pepperthala."

Now I knew something about Mr. Kettle—something not quite creditable to that gentleman—in connection with a certain transfer of Government land, which I had kept close in that sanctuary of the memory reserved for the bad deeds of others. My forbearance made me the victim of repeated offers of service from Kettle. The opportunity had now arrived. I determined to go down at once to Buckingham Palace, and claim from him a slight fulfilment of his many promises. I remembered Kettle as a particularly vulgar snob, unprincipled but clever, and always ready with word or blow.

On presentation of my card with the name of the paper engraved upon it, I found no difficulty in obtaining admittance to the Palace. The porter was haughty at first, but I prevailed over him, and he disappeared with my communication up a wide staircase, leaving me to wait in a large room, where the furniture was all covered up in brown holland. In a few minutes he returned, even haughtier than before. Mr. Kettle was dressing for dinner and could not see me. I wrote three words on a card, slipped it into an envelope and induced the Royal emissary to repeat his journey. . . . This time I was more successful. Mr. Kettle would see me, and at once.

The Raja of Pepperthala occupied a suite of rooms on the first floor. The night was too dark for me to locate the apartment into which I was shown, but I imagine it looked out upon the Palace gardens that stretch away to Grosvenor Place. Several minutes passed. I grew impatient. Somebody moved in the next room, then Kettle's voice reached me giving instructions to a servant. "A plague on this man," said I, and without more ado threw open the door that separated us. Mr. Kettle was standingbefore