The Prince, while he talked, was writing the note. Felix thrust it into his pocket and went out. In less than half an hour he was back. The Baron had returned to the German Embassy unexpectedly before going to Arlington Street, and Felix had caught him there. The Prince tore open the answer, and read it hastily through. "THE GERMAN EMBASSY, "_Wednesday evening._ "Alas! my dear Prince, had I been able, nothing could have given me so much pleasure as to have joined your little party, but, unfortunately, this wretched climate, which we both so justly loathe, has upset my throat again, and I have too much regard for my life to hand myself over to the English doctors. Accordingly, all being well, I go to Berlin to-morrow night to consult our own justly-famed Dr. Steinlaus. "Accept, my dear Prince, this expression of my most sincere regret, and believe me, yours most sincerely, "KARL VON KNIGENSTEIN." "The doctor whom he has gone to consult is no man of medicine," the Prince said thoughtfully. "He has gone to the Emperor." CHAPTER XIX WOLFENDEN'S LOVE-MAKING "Lord Wolfenden?" He laughed at her surprise, and took off his cap. He was breathless, for he had been scrambling up the steep side of the hill on which she was standing, looking steadfastly out to sea. Down in the valley from which he had come a small boy with a bag of golf clubs on his back was standing, making imaginary swings at the ball which lay before him. "I saw you from below," he explained. "I couldn't help coming up. You don't mind?" "No; I am glad to see you," she said simply. "You startled me, that is all. I did not hear you coming, and I had forgotten almost where I was. I was thinking." He stood by her side, his cap still in his hand, facing the strong sea wind. Again he was conscious of that sense of extreme pleasure which had always marked his chance meetings with her. This time he felt perhaps that there was some definite reason for it. There was something in her expression, when she had turned so swiftly round, which seemed to tell him that her first words were not altogether meaningless. She was looking a little pale, and he fancied also a little sad. There was an inexpressible wistfulness about her soft, dark eyes; the light and charming gaiety of her manner, so un-English and so attractive to him, had given place to quite another mood. Whatever her thoughts might have been when he had first seen her there, her tall, slim figure outlined so clearly against the abrupt sky line, they were at all events scarcely pleasant ones. He felt that his sudden appearance had not been unwelcome to her, and he was unreasonably pleased. "You are still all alone," he remarked. "Has Mr. Sabin not arrived?" She shook her head.