“Eddy!” I said, “I believe the King is dead!”
Together we hurried to the equerries’ entrance of the Palace and went
inside through the open door.
I spoke to one of the King’s gentlemen, standing with his back to the
fire, talking to an old man whom I knew to be the Belgian Minister.
“How is the King?” I asked.
He looked up at the clock, with a queer emotional smile which was not
of mirth, but very sad.
“Sir,” he said, in a broken voice, “King Edward died two minutes ago.”
The news was confirmed by another official. Eddy and I hurried out of
the Palace and ran out of the courtyard. From the Buckingham Palace
Hotel I telephoned the news to _The Daily Chronicle_ office.... The
official bulletin was not posted at the gate until an hour later, but
when I went home that night I held a copy of my paper which had caught
the country editions, with the Life and Death of King Edward VII.