"I won the race at Brooklands the other day," he said carelessly, "I won it with the car I have here now." "And nobody suspects that this Mr Drummond is a prince!" she exclaimed. "Nobody. I could never afford to go racing in my own name. The Kaiser would not allow it, you know. I have to be so very careful." "I quite understand that," remarked the widow. "But what an excellent motor-driver you must be! What a fine performance your record was! Why, there was half a column in the _Morning Post_ about it!" "It was not any more difficult, or more dangerous, than some of the long quick runs I've made on the Continent. From Rome up to Berlin, for instance, or from Warsaw to Ostend, I'm racing again at Brooklands next week." "And may I come and see you?" she asked. "Do let me. I will, of course, keep your secret, and not tell a soul." He hesitated. "You see nobody knows but yourself and Garrett, my chauffeur--not even Clayton. He's a good fellow, but parsons," he laughed, "are bad hands at keeping secrets. Too much tea and gossip spoils them, I suppose." "But I'll swear to remain secret. Only let me know the day and hour, and I'll go south and see you. I should love to see a motor-race. I've never seen one in my life." So at last, with seeming reluctance, his Highness, having taken the flattered widow into his confidence, promised on condition that she said nothing to anybody, she should know the day and hour when to be at Brooklands. As the warm summer days slipped by, it became more and more apparent to the Parson that his friend, the widow, had become entirely fascinated by the lighthearted easy-going prince. She, on her part, recognised how, because of her intimate acquaintance with his Highness, and the fact that he honoured her table with his presence sometimes at dinner, every one in the hotel courted her friendship in the hope that they might be introduced to the cousin of the Kaiser. Prince and Parson were, truth to tell, playing a very big bluff. Max had taken up his quarters at the Spa Hydro, and though meeting his two accomplices frequently in the streets, passed them by as strangers. Now and then the Parson went up to smoke with the Prince after the wealthy widow had retired, and on such occasions the conversation was of such a character that, if she had overheard it, she would have been considerably surprised. One evening, when they were together, the valet, Charles, entered, closing the door carefully after him. "Well," asked his master, "what's the news?"