"You are more than usually offensive to-night, Boris. I suppose you have been indulging in your favourite habit of drinking too much champagne." The shaft went home. It was well known in his family and amongst his friends that the Prince, in spite of the obligations of his high position, was far from abstemious, and had caused some scandal as a consequence of his unfortunate proclivities. A dull flush spread over his hard, handsome face. "You little spitfire!" he growled savagely. "I wonder when you will be tamed. Never, so long as our mother refrains from keeping a tighter rein over you." For answer, the young Princess swept scornfully away from him, in her pearls and shimmering white satin, a dream of loveliness to everybody except her churlish brother. Nello hastened home to his frugal supper in Dean Street, prepared for him by the capable hands of his little sister. A roll of notes had been handed to him on his departure by a slim young man, the secretary of the Princess. In spite of his natural grief at the death of the poor old Papa, he was jubilant, over his good luck. In two evenings he had made a small fortune. He handed over the precious roll of notes to Anita. "They are safe in your keeping, my dear one. But you must buy yourself some good clothes. Heaven knows we have starved and gone shabby long enough. But I cannot believe in it yet. It is still a dream." Poor Papa Péron was lying upstairs. Nello to-night would sleep in an improvised bed made up on the shabby sofa in the sitting-room. Anita, with her usual spirit of self-sacrifice, had offered him her own attic, while she made shift, but, of course, he would not hear of that. He had spent the morning in making arrangements for the funeral; they would bury the kind old Papa in two days from now. Happily, there was no lack of money at the moment. A week sooner, and a pauper's grave might have awaited him. Nello was very excited with his evening, and in consequence, wakeful. He smoked a cigarette, and Anita thought he would suggest retiring to his improvised bed after he had finished. But, to her surprise, he did not seem at all desirous of repose. "Are you very sleepy, little one?" he asked. As a matter of fact the girl could hardly keep her eyes open. The long watch by old Péron's bedside had tried her slender vitality sorely. But she was always ready to sacrifice herself to the slightest whim of those she loved. "Not in the least. What is in your mind, Nello?" "I thought we might look through the dear old Papa's papers. He said we were to open that cupboard after his death. I wonder if we shall learn who and what he was?" Nello went to the little cupboard and drew from it the ebony casket. The first thing that met his eye was the glittering order of Saint Louis, attached to a faded ribbon, which had been returned on the night when he had raised sufficient money on the miniature.