“Alas, Countess, I cannot tell you where the Princess is,” said Cyril. “But let us consider what we can do to obtain news of her Highness. You did not intend to speak before my secretary, did you? Mr Mansfield, please see that this visit is not mentioned.” Mansfield retired, and finding in the garden the old man-servant who had accompanied Countess Birnsdorf, told him to wait in Paschics’s room, lest his livery should be recognised by the hotel servants. Scarcely had he returned to his writing when footsteps upon the path announced a second visitor. This time the intruder was Colonel Czartoriski, a white-moustached veteran of many fights, and master of the household to the Princess of Dardania. “Where is your master, young man?” he inquired, looking Mansfield over in a peculiarly irritating way. “Count Mortimer is in his office,” returned Mansfield curtly, resenting the style of address. “Oh, indeed! Then I wish to see him.” “Unfortunately you can’t. His Excellency is engaged.” “So early?” very mildly. “I am indeed unfortunate. Who is with him, may I ask?” “A lady.” Colonel Czartoriski’s face became livid. “And you venture to acknowledge that to me?” he roared. “Who is the lady?” “I am not at liberty to mention her name.” “Out of the way, young man! Let me pass.” “Gently,” said Mansfield, shifting the old soldier adroitly from the inner door. “I don’t know what you mean by coming here and behaving as if you were in a comic opera, but it won’t take much more to make me kick you down the steps.” Colonel Czartoriski’s hand went promptly to the place where his sword-hilt was wont to be, but remembering that he was in plain clothes, he repressed his wrath, and made a gallant effort to be calm. “I ask your pardon, young sir. If you knew the reason for my excitement, you would excuse it, but you have not, I am sure, fathomed the full villainy of your master’s character. No,” as Mansfield made a threatening movement, “I will not speak against him. I ask you only to risk his displeasure for a moment for the sake of the honour of an august family, and the future of an unfortunate and misguided young lady.” “What do you want me to do?” asked Mansfield, unconvinced. “You see my position?” Colonel Czartoriski turned to the wall, and stood with his face almost touching a map of Western Asia which he appeared to be studying. “I give you my word of honour that I will maintain this attitude while you approach the lady, and entreat her to return immediately with her attendant to the home she has forsaken. I will not move until she is outside the garden, when I will venture to attend her back to the villa. I shall not have seen her here, you are a young man of honour and will not speak, the world will only know of an early walk. Come, you will help me to save her?”