“There are stranger stories than that about her,” said D'Esmonde. “But why has she come alone? How happens it that she is here?” “That is the secret that none of us can fathom,” said the courier. “We thought there was to have been another, and I believe there is another in the passport, but it was no affair of mine. I had my orders from the Prince's own 'intendant,' who bespoke all the relays for the road, and here we are.” “I will explain all the mystery to you at another time, courier,” said D'Esmonde; “meanwhile, let nothing of what we have been saying escape you. By the way,” added he, half carelessly, “what name did she travel under?” “The passport was made out 'Die Gräfin von Dalton;' but she has a Spanish name, for I heard it once from the intendant.” “Was it Lola de Seviglia?” “That was it. I remember it well.” “We are very old friends indeed!” said the Abbé; “and now be cautious; let none know that we have spoken together, and I can serve your fortune hereafter.” The German scarcely looked quite satisfied with himself for the confidence he had been unwittingly led into; “but, after all,” thought he, “the priest knew more than I could tell him;” and so he resumed his search without further thought of the matter. As for D'Esmonde, his first care was to inquire for Monsieur de Grasse, the Prince's chief secretary, with whom he remained closeted for nigh an hour. It will not be necessary to inflict all the detail of that interview on the reader; enough that we state its substance to have been a pressing entreaty on the part of D'Esmonde to be admitted to an audience of the Prince, as firmly resisted by the secretary, whose orders were not to admit any one, nor, indeed, acknowledge that his Highness was then there. “You must wait upon him at the Crocetto, Monsignore,” said De Grasse. “Your presence here will simply cause the dismissal of those who have admitted you, and yet never advance your own wishes in the least.” “My business is too urgent, sir, to be combated by reasons so weak as these,” replied D'Esmonde; “nor am I much accustomed to the air of an antechamber.” “You must yet be aware, Monsignore, that the orders of Prince Midchekoff are absolute in his own house.” The secretary dropped his voice almost to a whisper as he finished this sentence, for he had just overheard the Prince speaking to some one without, and could detect his step as he came along the corridor.