Next day, the gay devil-may-care Prince, giving his name as Mr Henry Tremlett, of London, arrived, bringing the faithful Charles, to whose keen observation more than one successful _coup_ had owed its genesis. There were now four of them staying in the hotel, but with what object Garrett could not discern. The Prince gave no sign of recognition to the Parson or the chauffeur. He dined at a little table alone, and was apparently as interested in the two women as Garrett was himself. Garrett's main object was to create interest, so acting upon the instructions the Prince had given him in London, he posed as the owner of the fine car, swaggered in the hall in his big coat and cap, and took runs up and down the white winding coast-road, envied by many of the guests, who, he knew, dearly wanted to explore the beauties of the neighbourhood. It was not, therefore, surprising that more than one of the guests of both sexes got into casual conversation with Garrett, and among them, on the second day after his arrival, the Princess Charles of Krajova. She was, he found, an enthusiastic motorist, and as they stood that sunny afternoon by the car, which was before the hotel, she made many inquiries regarding the long stretch from Dieppe to the Italian frontier. While they were chatting, the Parson, with Mademoiselle approached. The Rev Thomas started a conversation, in which the young lady joined. The latter Garrett decided was very charming. Her speech was that of an educated English girl only lately from her school, yet she had evidently been well trained for her position in society, and though so young, carried herself extremely well. As yet, nobody had spoken to Tremlett. He seemed to keep himself very much to himself. Why, the chauffeur wondered? That evening he spent in the hall, chatting with the Parson and the ladies. He had invited them all to go for a run on the morrow by the seashore as far as Savona, then inland to Ceva, and back by Ormeo and Oneglia, and they had accepted enthusiastically. Then, when aunt and niece rose to retire, he invited the Rev Thomas up to his sitting-room for a final whisky and soda. When they were alone with the door shut, Clayton said: "Look here, Garrett! This is a big game we're playing. The Prince lies low, while we work it. To-morrow you must attract the girl, while I make myself agreeable to the aunt--a very decent old body, after all. Recollect, you must not fall in love with the girl. She admires you, I know." "Not very difficult to fall in love with her," laughed the other. "She's uncommonly good-looking." "Yes, but be careful that you don't make a fool of yourself, and really allow yourself to be smitten," he urged. "But what is the nature of this fresh game?" Garrett inquired, eager to ascertain what was intended. "Don't worry about that, my dear fellow," was his reply. "Only make love to the girl. Leave the rest to his Highness and myself."