"Yes," cried Mrs Edmondson; "and we will have no further excuses, will we, Mr Clayton?" So his Highness was forced to accept, and next day the wily widow returned to Yorkshire to make preparations for the visit which was to shed such social lustre upon her house. THREE. The Prince and the Parson held several long interviews in the two days that followed, and it was apparent from one meeting which took place, and at which both Mason and Garrett were present, that some clever manoeuvre was intended. The quartette held solemn councils in the Prince's chambers, and there was much discussion, and considerable laughter. The latter, it appeared, was in consequence of Max's recollection of the wonderful record of his Highness at Brooklands. On the day appointed both Prince and parson, attended by the faithful Charles, left King's Cross by train for Whitby, Garrett having started alone on the "forty," with orders to travel by way of Doncaster and York, and arrive at Milnthorpe by noon next day. The fine old place was, the Prince found, quite a comfortable residence. The widow did the honours gracefully, welcoming her guests warmly. When the two friends found themselves alone in the Prince's room, his Highness whispered to the exemplary vicar: "I don't like the look of that Italian butler, Tommy. Do you know I've a very strange fancy?" "Of what?" "That I've met that fellow before, somewhere or other." "I sincerely hope not," was the clergyman's response. "Where I've met him I can't remember. By Jove! It'll be awkward for us if he recollects me." "Then we'll have to watch him. I wonder if--" And the Parson crossed noiselessly to the bedroom door and opened it suddenly. As he did so there was the distinct sound of some one scuffling round the corner in the corridor. Both men detected it. There had been an eavesdropper! They were suspected! At dinner that night the pair cast furtive glances at the thin, clean-shaven face of the middle-aged Italian butler, whose head was prematurely bald, but whose manners as a servant were perfect. Ferrini was the name by which his mistress addressed him, and it was apparent that he was very devoted to her. The young footman was English--a Cockney, by his twang. In the old panelled room, with its long family portraits and its old carved buffet laden with well-kept silver--or rather electro-plate, as the pair already knew--a well-cooked dinner was served amid flowers and cunningly-concealed lights. The table was a round one, and the only other guest was a tall, fair-haired young girl, a Miss Maud Mortimer, the daughter of a neighbouring squire. She was a loosely built, slobbering miss, with a face like a wax doll, and a slight impediment in her speech. At first she seemed shy in the presence of the Kaiser's cousin, but presently, when her awkwardness wore off, she grew quite merry.