Saturday Fiction: The Man Who Would Be King
“You are two fools,” I answered. “You’ll be turned back at the Frontier or cut up the minute you set foot in Afghanistan. Do you want any money or a recommendation down-country? I can help you to the chance of work next week.”
“Next week we shall be hard at work ourselves, thank you,” said Murdoch. “It isn’t so easy being a King as it looks. When we’ve got our Kingdom in going order we’ll let you know, and you can come up and help us to govern it.”
“Would two lunatics make a Contrack like that!” said Windsor, with subdued pride, showing me a greasy half-sheet of note-paper on which was written the D-Notice. I copied it, then and there, as a curiosity:—
This Contract between me and you persuing witnesseth in the name of God — Amen and so forth.
(One) That me and you will settle this matter together: i.e., to be Kings of Afghanistan.
(Two) That you and me will while this matter is being settled, look at any camera, or any newspaper black, white or red, so as to get mixed up with one or the other.
(Three) That we conduct ourselves with Dignity and Discretion, and if one of us gets into trouble the other will stay by him.
Signed by you and me this day.
Henry Charles Albert David Windsor.
Rupert Murdoch.
Both Gentlemen at Large.
“There was no need for the last article,” said Windsor, blushing modestly; “but it looks regular. Now you know the sort of men that loafers are — we are loafers, Rupe, until we get out of England — and do you think that we could sign a Contrack like that unless we was in earnest?”
“You won’t enjoy your lives much longer if you are going to try this idiotic adventure. Don’t set the place on fire,” I said, “and go away before nine o’clock.”
“Good-by,” said Murdoch, giving me his hand cautiously. “It’s the last time we’ll shake hands with an Englishman these many days. Shake hands with him, Windsor,” he cried.
Windsor shook hands. My eye could detect no failure in the disguises. There was just the chance, therefore, that Windsor and Murdoch would be able to wander through Afghanistan without detection.
| See also • Cry Harry and let slip the knobs of war • Dog Day Afternoon • Drudge and dirty linen |
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