"I've just left Max down in the town," replied the clean-shaven servant. "He got back from Milnthorpe Hall this morning. He went there as an electrical engineer, sent by Cameron Brothers, of London, at the old woman's request, and examined the whole place with a view to a lighting installation. He reports that, beyond a few good paintings--mostly family portraits of the original owners--and a little _bric-a-brac_, there's nothing worth having. The old woman keeps her jewels in the bank at York, as well as greater part of the plate. What's in general use is all electro. Besides, there are burglar-alarms all over the place." "Then the old woman's a four-flush!" declared the Parson tossing away his cigarette angrily. "I thought she'd got some good stuff there. That was my impression from the outside." "Afraid of thieves, evidently," remarked the Prince. "She's a lone woman, and according to what you say, the only men in the house are the Italian butler, and a young footman." "If there's nothing there, what's the use troubling over her further?" His Highness puffed thoughtfully at his "Petroff." He was reflecting deeply, bitterly repenting that he had been such a fool as to tell her the truth regarding his motor-racing _nomade-guerre_. He could not afford to allow her to become his enemy. To abandon her at once would surely be a most injudicious action. "At present let's postpone our decision, Tommy," he exclaimed at last. "There may be a way to success yet. You, Charles, see Max to-morrow, and tell him to go to London and lie low there. I'll wire him when I want him. You have some money. Give him a tenner." And the man addressed soon afterwards withdrew. The events of the next two days showed plainly that the original plans formulated by the Rev Thomas Clayton had been abandoned. The widow, with some trepidation, invited the Prince and his clerical friend to be her guests at Milnthorpe, but they made excuses, much to her chagrin. The exemplary vicar was compelled to return to his Bayswater parish, while the Prince was also recalled to London to race at Brooklands, making the journey, of course, on the car. Thus Mrs Edmondson found herself left alone in the "Majestic," with her fellow guests full of wonder at what had really occurred. The widow, however, had been buoyed up by a few whispered words of the Prince at the moment of his departure. "Preserve my secret as you promised, Mrs Edmondson, and come to London one day next week. You always go to the Langham--you say. I'll call on you there next Friday. _Au revoir_!" And he lifted his cap, shook her hand, and mounted at the wheel of the big mustard-coloured "racer." On the day appointed he called at the Langham and found her installed in one of the best suites, prepared to receive him.