wrinkling brow and said in a voice much saner than any he had yet
used:

"Well, if you dislike my assistance, of course--perhaps the other
gentleman----"

"The other gentleman," cried Turnbull, scornfully, "is a
submissive and loyal and obedient gentleman. He likes the people
who wear crowns, whether of diamonds or of stars. He believes in
the divine right of kings, and it is appropriate enough that he
should have the king for his second. But it is not appropriate to
me that I should have God for my second. God is not good enough.
I dislike and I deny the divine right of kings. But I dislike
more and I deny more the divine right of divinity."

Then after a pause in which he swallowed his passion, he said to
MacIan: "You have got the right second, anyhow."

The Highlander did not answer, but stood as if thunderstruck with
one long and heavy thought. Then at last he turned abruptly to
his second in the silk hat and said: "Who are you?"

The man in the silk hat blinked and bridled in affected surprise,
like one who was in truth accustomed to be doubted.

"I am King Edward VII," he said, with shaky arrogance. "Do you
doubt my word?"

"I do not doubt it in the least," answered MacIan.