“Lord Cyril, a thought has struck me.” The old lady sat upright suddenly. “I am expecting Vladimir Alexandrovitch here in a day or two. You know that he manages my affairs, and is anxious to consult me about some investment. When I told him I should be at Ludwigsbad, he said that would suit him quite well.” “Prince Soudaroff is coming here?” “Yes, merely on this business of mine, as I said. But he is an honourable, fair-minded man. Why should you not meet him informally and talk things over? You could put the case for the Jews fully before him--men in his position are always surrounded by people whose interest it is to keep the truth from them--and I am sure he would be convinced. Then he could represent the real state of affairs to the Emperor. You won’t refuse to make the attempt? It may save so much delay.” “I shall be delighted to meet Prince Soudaroff whenever you like, Princess.” But in his own mind Cyril was using very different language regarding the prospective visit of the great diplomatist who was so fortunate as to be brother-in-law to the unsuspicious old lady in the bath-chair. “Then they have felt the pinch already? This is sharp work. Wily idea to cloak the object of Soudaroff’s journey in this way. But I shall have to walk warily, for it’s no joke to find oneself between him and her most sapient Highness of Dardania.” They had arrived at the bridge between the old and new promenades, and he seized the opportunity to detach Prince Mirkovics from Philippa, and carry him off to his rooms, earning Mansfield’s undying gratitude by deputing him to escort the ladies back to their lodgings--a gratitude which was immediately extended to the Princess when she remarked that it would be pleasant to take a turn in the Neue Wiese before returning. “Do you know,” said Philippa mysteriously, as she resumed her place beside the chair, while Mansfield unblushingly deserted Usk in order to walk with her, “I think that poor old man must be a little queer. He has been going on in the most extraordinary way, saying that I ought to be a queen, and trying to make me discontented with my humble lot in life. I told him I was perfectly happy in it, and then he said that I had inherited my father’s only fault, lack of ambition, and that if father and Uncle Cyril could be mixed up together, they would make a perfect king. I told him that I thought Uncle Cyril was splendid, but that I wouldn’t have father the least bit different for anything, and he said that only confirmed what he had remarked before.” “He evidently thinks it’s your duty to worry father back to Thracia,” laughed Usk. “Awfully lucky for me that you don’t agree with him,” said Mansfield. “I should never have had a chance of coming across you in that case.” “And if you had,” said Usk, “it wouldn’t have done you much good. Do you think her Royal Highness the Princess Philippa would have condescended to be aware of your existence?”