But whether the General’s explanation was deemed adequate, or whether she intended to accept the invitation, there was no present means of knowing. For the sedate calm of the afternoon call was suddenly interrupted by a tremendous uproar beyond the closed door that was blocked by the writing-table—a babel of confused voices and the shuffling of feet. The ladies looked at one another in alarm, Mrs. Talmage Eglinton fully sharing the agitation of her visitors. Indeed, she rose and glided swiftly towards the closed door, and then, as though recollecting that it was not available, made for the principal entrance of her suite. The General rose and followed her into the corridor, the commotion being so great as to excuse his doing so. In fact, the sounds from the next room were so appalling as to suggest that his protection might be necessary against some broken-out lunatic, and out in the corridor it was evident that some such idea prevailed among the hotel attendants. A cluster of them had already collected at the door of the adjoining apartments, and more were arriving. "What is all this disturbance?" Mrs. Talmage Eglinton inquired of one of them, and the General, close behind, discerned a tremulous note in her indignation. The man she accosted did not know, but another, who had been inside the suite, at that moment pushed his way out and overheard the question. "It’s nothing really serious, madam," he said. "An Indian Prince who had applied for rooms was being shown round, when he took a fancy to enter that suite—occupied by Mr. Clinton Ziegler. The Prince is in there now, and nothing will induce him to leave peaceably, as he can’t be made to understand that the rooms are engaged. He doesn’t appear to know much English, but I am going for one of the curry cooks, who will doubtless be able to interpret for us." "No need to waste time in fetching the cook," interposed the General. "I speak most of the Indian dialects, and I dare say I can get him to quit." "You’d better be careful, then, sir," said the attendant. "He pretty nearly strangled Mr. Ziegler’s secretary when he tried to put him out." Disdaining the warning and accepting the implied permission, the General elbowed his way into the invaded territory, from which, after a couple of minutes, he emerged with a tall Asiatic who was wreathed in apologetic smiles, and talking volubly in an unknown tongue. The intruder was dressed in a gorgeously embroidered purple vestment, and in his snowy turban blazed a diamond the size of a pigeon’s egg. From the doorway of the invaded suite a couple of pale, fierce faces glared for an instant, and then the door was shut.