"What make of car is yours?" she asked while they were lingering over their dessert in the widow's private sitting-room. "It's the St Christopher," he answered. "St Christopher!" she echoed. "What a funny name to give a car!" "It may appear so at first sight, but St Christopher has been taken by motorists on the Continent as their patron saint--the saint who for ages has guarded the believer against the perils of the way. So it's really appropriate, after all." "I heard them say that you've made the fortune of the car by your success to-day," she remarked. "Yes," he answered carelessly. "Anybody who cared to put in a few thousands now would receive a magnificent return for their money-- twenty-five per cent, within a year." "You think so?" she asked interestedly. "Think, Mrs Edmondson?" he echoed. "I'm sure of it! Why, the St Christopher now holds the world's record, and you know what that means. The makers will begin to receive far more orders than they can ever execute. Look at the Napier, the Itala, the Fiat, and others. The same thing has happened. The St Christopher, however, is in the hands of two men only, and they, unfortunately, lack capital." "You should help them, if it's such a good thing." "I'm doing so. Now I've won the race I shall put in fifteen thousand-- perhaps twenty. They are seeing me to-morrow. As a matter of fact," he added, lowering his tone, "I mean to hold controlling interest in the concern. It's far too good a thing to miss." The fat widow, with her black bodice cut low, and the circle of diamonds sparkling upon her red neck, sipped her wine slowly, but said nothing. His Highness did not refer to this matter again. He was a past-master of craft and cunning. Later on, the Rev Thomas Clayton was announced, and the trio spent quite a pleasant evening, which concluded by the lady inviting them both to Milnthorpe the following week. At first the Prince again hesitated. The widow sat in breathless expectancy. At all hazards she must get his Highness to visit her. It would be known all over the county. She would pay a guinea each to the fashionable papers to announce the fact, for it would be worth so very much to her in the county. "I fear, Mrs Edmondson, that I must go to Berlin next week," replied the Prince. "I'm sure it's very good of you, but the Emperor has summoned me regarding some affairs of my brother Karl." "Oh! why can't you postpone your visit, and come and see me first?" she urged in her most persuasive style. "Mr Clayton, do urge the Prince to come to me," she added. "You can surely go to Germany a week later, Prince," exclaimed the cleric. "Where's the Kaiser just now?" "At Kiel, yachting." "Then he may not be in Berlin next week?" "He has appointed to meet me at Potsdam. His Majesty never breaks an engagement." "Then you will break yours, Prince, and go with me to Milnthorpe," declared the Parson.