“I mean that I must have an X-ray of your elbow immediately and surgical resources at my disposal or I won’t answer for the consequences. The yacht must make for harbour at once.” “Am I in danger, Mr. Fortune?” “I hope to save your arm if you give me the chance.” “I am in your hands, Mr. Fortune,” said the Prince feebly. “Oh! If you could do something to stop this neuralgic pain in my arm----” In fact, Reggie had a difficult time with him, which you may think was only fair. It was very late before His Highness (who took a morbid interest in his limbs) could be got to sleep; very late--or early--before Reggie went to bed, but all the while the _Giulia_ was steaming back to Tormouth, and when Reggie came on deck again “pink and beautiful”, as he remarked to his mirror, thanks to a razor and linen of Spoleto’s, the brown Tormouth headlands loomed through the morning haze. Already upon deck were Spoleto and Hilda, walking together, negotiating, as it appeared, a defensive alliance. “This is very gratifyin’,” said Reggie. “How is my uncle, Mr. Fortune?” said Spoleto. “Still asleep, thank Heaven.” “He is not in any danger?” said Hilda. “Well, you know, he’s so anxious about himself.” “I should never forgive myself if anything happened!” Spoleto cried. “Oh, I should, you know, I should,” Reggie murmured thoughtfully. They did not attend to him. “But you are not to blame.” Hilda was interested in Spoleto. “You are not to blame for anything.” “You say that!” Spoleto cried. “Thank you, my cousin,” and he kissed her hand. “Oh, but you are absurd,” said Hilda, and flushed faintly and turned away. Spoleto made a gesture of despair. “Quite, quite,” Reggie said. “So we’d better have breakfast.” During that meal he might have heard, if he had listened, the full history of the emotions of the Comte de Spoleto. He escaped from them to visit his patient. The Prince was much cheered by a night of sleep, still excessively interested in his injuries, but now hopeful about them. He gave great honour to Reggie’s treatment of the case. “My dear sir, I must consider it providential that you were on board. Oh, but certainly providential.” “Well, sir, the affair might have taken a different turn without me,” Reggie admitted modestly. “Indeed, yes,” said His Highness. “Good God, Mr. Fortune, and how I resented your appearance yesterday!” He became thoughtful. “I think what annoyed me most was that any one should have discovered my plans.” He gazed at Reggie. “Are you free to tell me, Mr. Fortune? I am much interested to know what brought you here. Did Hilda say anything to her mother? Or is there a traitor in my camp? Spoleto--that little actress?” “Here’s the traitor, sir.” Reggie took out of his pocket the Hottentot Venus. “Good heavens!” The Prince took her affectionately. “My new palæolithic Venus.”