"There's not much more to tell than what you already know," responded the Parson, "except that she's all in a flutter at meeting you, and wants to chat with you again." "Have you made any inquiries concerning her?" "Of course. A week ago I ran over in secret to Milnthorpe Hall. Fine place, big park, large staff of servants, butler an Italian. Husband was partner in a firm of shipbuilders at Barrow, and left nearly a million to his wife. One son recently passed into the Army, and just now stationed in Cawnpore. Rather rackety, his mother says. The old woman dotes on parsons." "And quite gone on you--eh?" Clayton laughed. "She gave me a cheque for fifty pounds for my Children's Holiday Fund last week," he said. "She's promised to come down and go round my parish one day, soon." His Highness smiled knowingly. "Is her place far from Whitby?" he inquired, between whiffs of his cigarette. "About four miles, on the high road just past a place called Swarthoe Cross. Grosmount station, on the Pickering line is nearest." "The old girl, as far as I've been able to observe, is a purse-proud old crow," his Highness remarked. "Rather. Likes her name to figure in subscription lists. The old man built and endowed some almshouses in Whitby, and offered twenty thousand to his Party for a knighthood, but was refused. It's a sore point, for she badly wanted to be Lady Edmondson." "How long since the dear one departed?" "Two years." "And she's looking for a second, I suppose?" "That's my belief." "I wonder if she'd be attracted by the title of princess?" he laughed. "Why, the very suggestion would take the silly old woman's breath away," declared the Reverend Thomas. "Well, if she's so confoundedly generous, what is to prevent us from benefiting a bit? We sadly need it, Tommy," the Prince declared. "I had a letter from Max the day before yesterday. He wants fifty wired without fail to the Poste Restante at Copenhagen. He's lying low there, just now." "And one of the best places in Europe," the Parson exclaimed. "It's most snug at the `Angleterre,' or at the `Bristol.' I put in six months there once. Stockholm is another good spot. I was all one summer at that little hotel out at Salsjobaden, and had quite a good time. I passed as an American and nobody recognised me, though my description had been circulated all over Europe. The Swedish and Danish police are a muddle-headed lot--fortunately for fellows like ourselves who want to lie undisturbed. Have you sent Max the money?" "I wired twenty-five this morning, and promised the balance in seven days," responded his Highness, lighting a fresh cigarette with his half-consumed one. He always smoked in the Russian style, flinging away the end when only half finished.