"When I leave here, old fellow, you'll join me for a little, won't you? Don't worry me any more at present for your Confounded--er charities-- will you? Fresh air for the children, and whisky for yourself--eh? By Jove, if I hadn't been a Prince, I'd have liked to have been a parson! Good-bye, old fellow." And the rubicund cleric shook his friend's hand heartily and went down the broad staircase. The instant his visitor had gone he called Charles and asked excitedly: "Did any one know the Parson came to see me?" "No, your Highness. I fortunately met him in King's Road, and brought him up here. He never inquired at the office." "He's a fool! He could easily have written," cried the Prince eagerly. "Where are those women, I wonder?" he asked, indicating Mrs Jesup and her daughter. "I told them you would be engaged all the afternoon." "Good. I shan't go out again to-day, Charles. I want to think. Go to them with my compliments, and say that if they would like to use the car for a run this afternoon they are very welcome. You know what to say. And--and see that a bouquet of roses is sent up to the young lady's room before she goes to dress. Put one of my cards on it." "Yes, your Highness," replied the valet, and turning, left his master to himself. The visit of the Reverend Thomas Clayton had, in some way, perturbed and annoyed him. And yet their meeting had been fraught by a marked cordiality. Presently he flung himself into a big armchair, and lighting one of his choice "Petroffs" which he specially imported, sat ruminating. "Ah! If I were not a Prince!" he exclaimed aloud to himself. "I could do it--do it quite easily. But it's my confounded social position that prevents so much. And yet--yet I must tell her. It's imperative. I must contrive somehow or other to evade that steely maternal eye. I wonder if the mother has any suspicion--whether--?" But he replaced his cigarette between his lips without completing the expression of his doubts. As the sunlight began to mellow, he still sat alone, thinking deeply. Then he moved to go and dress, having resolved to dine in the public restaurant with his American friends. Just then Charles opened the door, ushering in a rather pale-faced, clean-shaven man in dark grey tweeds. He entered with a jaunty air and was somewhat arrogant of manner, as he strode across the room. The Prince's greeting was greatly the reverse of cordial. "What brings you here, Max?" he inquired sharply. "Didn't I telegraph to you only this morning?" "Yes. But I wanted a breath of sea-air, so came down. I want to know if you're going to keep the appointment next Monday--or not." "I can't tell yet." "Hylda is anxious to know. You promised her, remember." "I know. But apologise, and say that--well, I have some private business here. You know what to say, Max. And I may want you down here in a hurry. Come at once if I wire." The man looked him straight in the face for a few moments.