“You’re a very strange woman,” he said. Probably he did not know how straight and hard his eyes were set on her; they could not leave her. What a pity it was that she would not go with the Prince--as his wife, or even (to use Lady Craigennoch’s charitably evasive phrase) as she was now. To set the Prince on the seat of his ancestors was not an exploit that appealed to Mr Byers; but to set this woman on a throne would be worth--well, how much? Mr Byers detected this question in his own heart; he could not help reducing things to figures. “Why don’t you go with him?” he asked bluntly. “It would prejudice him,” she answered simply, folding her hands in her lap. Then she stretched out a hand towards him and said suddenly, with a sudden quiver in her voice, “I talk to you like this, and all the time I’m wanting to go down on my knees and kiss your hands, because you’re doing this.” The lean hand held the square jaw; the attitude was a favourite one with Mr Byers; and his eyes were still on her. “Yes, that’s what I want to do,” she said with a nervous laugh. “It’s so splendid of you.” Her breath came fast; her eyes were very bright. At that moment Mr Byers wished that the quick breath and the bright eyes were for him himself, not for the helper of the Prince; and for that moment he forgot Mrs Byers and the babies in Portland Place; it was years since he had had any such wish about any woman; he felt a sympathy with Prince Julian, who had almost cried when he signed the Manifesto, because, if he mounted the throne, Ellen Rivers would leave him. “We want money now, directly,” she went on. “We want the Manifesto in every house. I can manage the distribution. And we must pay people--bribe them. We must sow seed. It’ll soon come up. And the Prince will act at the proper time.” “How much do you want now?” he asked. “Half-a-million now, and another next month,” she said. “And more before the end?” “Yes, most likely. You can get it, you know.” “And shall I ever get it back?” “The Prince has given his word.” Mr Byers assumed a doubtful air. “Oh, you’re not as stupid as that; you believe him,” she added almost contemptuously. “Do you mean it’s a speculation? Of course it is. I thought you had courage!” “So I have,” said Byers. And he added, “I may want it all too.” What he would want it for was in his mind, but he did not tell her.