“That’s enough.” His voice came from some point at least fifty feet above me. “You shall have your abdication. I don’t want the money. You will send word to me when the train is ready.”
“Write the get-out now,” I ordered.
He went over to the desk, found a sheet of paper, and with a steady hand wrote that in leaving Muravia he renounced his throne and all rights to it. He signed the paper Lionel Rex and gave it to me. I pocketed it and began sympathetically:
“I can understand your feelings, and I’m sorry that—”
He put his back to me and walked out of the room. I returned to the hotel.
At the fifth floor I left the elevator and walked softly to the door of my room. No sound came through. I tried the door, found it unlocked, and went in. Emptiness. Even my clothes and bags were gone. I went up to Grantham’s suite.
Djudakovich, Romaine, Einarson, and half the police force were there.