“I believe that I am pale,” Penelope answered. “I am always pale when I wear black and when people have disagreed with me. As a matter of fact, I am trying to make the Prince feel homesick. Tell me,” she asked him across the round table, “don’t you think that I remind you a little tonight of the women of your country?” The Prince returned her gaze as though, indeed, something were passing between them of greater significance than that half-bantering question. “Indeed,” he said, “I think that you do. You remind me of my country itself--of the things that wait for me across the ocean.” The Prince’s servant had entered the dining room and whispered in the ear of the butler who was superintending the service of dinner. The latter came over at once to the Prince. “Your Highness,” he said, “some one is on the telephone, speaking from London. They ask if you could spare half a minute.” The Prince rose with an interrogative glance at his hostess, and the Duchess smilingly motioned him to go. Even after he had left the room, when he was altogether unobserved, his composed demeanor showed no signs of any change. He took up the receiver almost blithely. It was Soto, his secretary, who spoke to him. “Highness,” he said, “the man Jacks with a policeman is here in the hall at the present moment. He asks permission to search this house.” “For what purpose?” the Prince asked. “To discover some person whom he believes to be in hiding here,” the secretary answered. “He explains that in any ordinary case he would have applied for what they call a search warrant. Owing to your Highness’ position, however, he has attended here, hoping for your gracious consent without having made any formal application.” “I must think!” the Prince answered. “Tell me, Soto. You are sure that the English doctor has had no opportunity of communicating with any one?” “He has had no opportunity,” was the firm reply. “If your Highness says the word, he shall pass.” “Let him alone,” the Prince answered. “Refuse this man Jacks permission to search my house during my absence. Tell him that I shall be there at three o’clock tomorrow afternoon and that at that hour he is welcome to return.” “It shall be done, Highness,” was the answer. The Prince set down the receiver upon the instrument and stood for a moment deep in thought. It was a strange country, this,--a strange end which it seemed that he must prepare to face. He felt like the man who had gone out to shoot lions and returning with great spoil had died of the bite of a poisonous ant! CHAPTER XXXI. GOODBYE! The Prince on his return from the library intercepted Penelope on her way across the hall. “Forgive me,” he said, “but I could not help overhearing some sentences of your conversation with Sir Charles Somerfield as we sat at dinner. You are going to talk with him now, is it not so?” “As soon as he comes out from the dining room.”