Challenge!

Meanwhile, in Fenwick, Emperor George is digesting the latest news from Wurstburp.

'Wilhelm! Alive! Disaster! My position on the throne of Gelderland is precarious!'
His minister, Graf Wernar von Wormer, nods. 'Indeed, sire - that fatso Wilhelm did bend the legs quite badly, so that's no surprise it's difficult to sit on'.
The Emperor points at Graf Wernar - something that he often likes to do. 'This is no time for funnies, minister. How is it possible that Wilhelm survived?

The Graf bows. 'My lord. That is not entirely clear. By all accounts Wilhelm's 'accident' was fairly terminal. Those who, ah, 'helped him' accidently put a door on himself and pile it high with very heavy stones were quite clear about the success, ah, I mean 'tragically terminal consequences', of it: the size of the door; the weight and height of the pile of stones; the flatness of Wilhelm in the aftermath.
The Emperor's eyes narrow. 'So, this might be a pretender to the throne, then?'



The minister nods. 'My lord, it is not impossible. His actual survival in his battle against the door I would judge to be highly unlikely'.
'But who would be able to pretend to be Wilhelm?' asks George. 'I mean, he was very distinctive in terms of his physique'.
Graf Wernar considers this. 'There are, I believe, certain kinds of wildlife that might be of an appropriate size, sire. The right walrus, in the right size of elasticated breeches, might be sufficient, certainly in terms of intellect and table manners, to fool the casual observer'.
'Who would look casually at a walrus in a pair of elasticated trousers?' asks the Emperor.
'There is that, sire. But, to be fair, if Wilhelm did survive, then he is likely to be very different in looks from the fellow everyone remembers'.
'Taller and flatter?' asks George.
'Yes, lord. And also headless'.
'Headless?'
'My lord, I pride myself on my thoroughness. So, after Wilhelm accidently ended up under a door covered with stones, he then, trying to extricate himself, mistakenly cut his own head off. All very sad'.

The Emperor nods, considering his minister's words. 'Hmm, then I think that we can conclude that whoever this pretender to the throne is, it probably isn't Wilhelm Penwick-Fuppet'.
'Assuming, sire, that the Wilhelm Penwick-Fuppet that ended up as a horizontal door-stop was indeed Wilhelm Penwick-Fuppet'.
'So, the fellow who died might have been an imposter? Wouldn't an imposter have been noticed?'
'Well sire, it was quite dark and he did have a door on him'.
'But they cut his head off!'
'I assume it was his head, sire'.
'You assume? Well what else might your fellows, ah, I mean 'cruel fate', have cut off?'
'In retrospect, sire, I do worry'.
'Well, did what was cut off have a nose on it? That could certainly be taken as some measure of evidence!'
'Alas, lord, in that I was remiss. I did assume that the order to 'cut off his head' would logically be applied to that part of Wilhelm that was above the neck and that had a nose on it. But I suppose in retrospect, that wouldn't guarantee against the eventuality that the nose and attached extremity might not, in the first place, belong to Wilhelm'.

'Minister, we need to have more intelligence on this situation! Instruct our Chief of Police! I want our spies and informers to give this issue their fullest attention! We need to know if the fellow that everyone is now claiming is Wilhelm is a fraud, or if Wilhelm managed to escape from prison before his accident. If it's the latter, how did he escape? Because it can't have been a quick job. It would have taken him weeks just to get out of the window!'

With that, George walks along the corridor to a nearby door and throws it open. The Emperor's eyes goggle.
'What in God's name is going on!'
'Aaah!' cries his son Joachim. 'It's not what it looks like father!'