“It is a great misfortune,” the Prince said in a tone of polite regret, “but surely it is not irreparable? There must be others--why not your own groom?” A smile went round the table. The Duke hastened to explain. “The race is for gentlemen riders only,” he said. “The horses have to be the property of members of the hunt. There would be no difficulty, of course, in finding a substitute for Captain Chalmers, but the race takes place this morning, and I am afraid, with all due respect to my daughter, that her mare hasn’t the best of reputations.” “I won’t have a word said against Lady Barbarity,” Lady Grace declared. “Captain Chalmers is a good horseman, of course but for a lightweight he has the worst hands I ever knew.” “But surely amongst your immediate friends there must be many others,” the Prince said. “Sir Charles, for instance?” “Charlie is riding his own horse,” Lady Grace answered. “He hasn’t the ghost of a chance, but, of course, he won’t give it up.” “Not I!” Somerfield answered, gorgeous in pink coat and riding breeches. “My old horse may not be fast, but he can go the course, and I’m none too certain of the others. Some of those hurdles’ll take a bit of doing.” “It is a shame,” the Prince remarked, “that you should be disappointed, Lady Grace. Would they let me ride for you?” Nothing the Prince could have said would have astonished the little company more. Somerfield came to a standstill in the middle of the room, with a cup of tea in one hand and a plate of ham in the other. “You!” Lady Grace exclaimed. “Do you really mean it, Prince?” Penelope cried. “Well, why not?” he asked, himself, in turn, somewhat surprised. “If I am eligible, and Lady Grace chooses, it seems to me very simple.” “But,” the Duke intervened, “I did not know--we did not know that you were a sportsman, Prince.” “A sportsman?” the Prince repeated a little doubtfully. “Perhaps I am not that according to your point of view, but when it comes to a question of riding, why, that is easy enough.” “Have you ever ridden in a steeplechase?” Somerfield asked him. “Never in my life,” the Prince declared. “Frankly, I do not know what it is.” “There are jumps, for one thing,” Somerfield continued,--“pretty stiff affairs, too.” “If Lady Grace’s mare is a hunter,” the Prince remarked, “she can probably jump them.” “The question is whether--” Somerfield began, and stopped short. The Prince looked up. “Yes?” he asked. Somerfield hesitated to complete his sentence, and the Duke once more intervened. “What Somerfield was thinking, my dear Prince,” he said, “was that a steeplechase course, as they ride in this country, needs some knowing. You have never been on my daughter’s mare before.” The Prince smiled.