“So you’re taking my advice and going there?”
“Yes,” said Anthony. “Your advice was worth more than you knew. Now for the confession. I wasn’t changed at nurse, or anything romantic like that, but nevertheless I am really Prince Nicholas Obolovitch of Herzoslovakia.”
“Oh, Anthony,” cried Virginia. “How perfectly screaming! And I have married you! What are we going to do about it?”
“We’ll go to Herzoslovakia and pretend to be kings and queens. Jimmy McGrath once said that the average life of a king or queen out there is under four years. I hope you don’t mind?”
“Mind?” cried Virginia. “I shall love it!”
“Isn’t she great?” murmured Jimmy.
Then, discreetly, he faded into the night. A few minutes later the sound of a car was heard.
“Nothing like letting a man do his own dirty work,” said Anthony, with satisfaction. “Besides, I didn’t know how else to get rid of him. Since we were married I’ve not had one minute alone with you.”
“We’ll have a lot of fun,” said Virginia. “Teaching the brigands not to be brigands, and the assassins not to assassinate, and generally improving the moral tone of the country.”
“I like to hear these pure ideals,” said Anthony. “It makes me feel my sacrifice has not been in vain.”
“Rot,” said Virginia calmly, “you’ll enjoy being a king. It’s in your blood, you know. You were brought up to the trade of royalty, and you’ve got a natural aptitude for it, just like plumbers have a natural bent for plumbing.”