CHAPTER 9
A New Use for a Tea-table
If I were to detail the ordinary events of my daily life at this time,
they might prove instructive to people who are not familiar with the
inside of palaces; if I revealed some of the secrets I learnt, they
might prove of interest to the statesmen of Europe. I intend to do
neither of these things. I should be between the Scylla of dullness and
the Charybdis of indiscretion, and I feel that I had far better confine
myself strictly to the underground drama which was being played beneath
the surface of Ruritanian politics. I need only say that the secret of
my imposture defied detection. I made mistakes. I had bad minutes: it
needed all the tact and graciousness whereof I was master to smooth over
some apparent lapses of memory and unmindfulness of old acquaintances of
which I was guilty. But I escaped, and I attribute my escape, as I have
said before, most of all, to the very audacity of the enterprise. It is
my belief that, given the necessary physical likeness, it was far easier
to pretend to be King of Ruritania than it would have been to personate
my next-door neighbour. One day Sapt came into my room. He threw me a
letter, saying:
"That's for you--a woman's hand, I think. But I've some news for you
first.
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