Produced by Charles Keller and David Garcia [Illustration: The King had the eyes he longed to see.] THE LOST PRINCE By FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT With Four Illustrations By MAURICE L. BOWER 1915 CONTENTS I THE NEW LODGERS AT NO. 7 PHILIBERT PLACE II A YOUNG CITIZEN OF THE WORLD III THE LEGEND OF THE LOST PRINCE IV THE RAT V "SILENCE IS STILL THE ORDER" VI THE DRILL AND THE SECRET PARTY VII "THE LAMP IS LIGHTED!" VIII AN EXCITING GAME IX "IT IS NOT A GAME" X THE RAT--AND SAMAVIA XI "COME WITH ME" XII "ONLY TWO BOYS" XIII LORISTAN ATTENDS A DRILL OF THE SQUAD XIV MARCO DOES NOT ANSWER XV A SOUND IN A DREAM XVI THE RAT TO THE RESCUE XVII "IT IS A VERY BAD SIGN" XVIII "CITIES AND FACES" XIX "THAT IS ONE!" XX MARCO GOES TO THE OPERA XXI "HELP!" XXII THE NIGHT VIGIL XXIII THE SILVER HORN XXIV "HOW SHALL WE FIND HIM?" XXV A VOICE IN THE NIGHT XXVI ACROSS THE FRONTIER XXVII "IT IS THE LOST PRINCE! IT IS IVOR!" XXVIII "EXTRA! EXTRA! EXTRA!" XXIX 'TWIXT NIGHT AND MORNING XXX THE GAME IS AT AN END XXXI "THE SON OF STEFAN LORISTAN" THE LOST PRINCE I THE NEW LODGERS AT NO. 7 PHILIBERT PLACE There are many dreary and dingy rows of ugly houses in certain parts of London, but there certainly could not be any row more ugly or dingier than Philibert Place. There were stories that it had once been more attractive, but that had been so long ago that no one remembered the time. It stood back in its gloomy, narrow strips of uncared-for, smoky gardens, whose broken iron railings were supposed to protect it from the surging traffic of a road which was always roaring with the rattle of busses, cabs, drays, and vans, and the passing of people who were shabbily dressed and looked as if they were either going to hard work or coming from it, or hurrying to see if they could find some of it to do to keep themselves from going hungry. The brick fronts of the houses were blackened with smoke, their windows were nearly all dirty and hung with dingy curtains, or had no curtains at all; the strips of ground, which had once been intended to grow flowers in, had been trodden down into bare earth in which even weeds had forgotten to grow. One of them was used as a stone-cutter's yard, and cheap monuments, crosses, and slates were set out for sale, bearing inscriptions beginning with "Sacred to the Memory of." Another had piles of old lumber in it, another exhibited second-hand furniture, chairs with unsteady legs, sofas with horsehair stuffing bulging out of holes in their covering, mirrors with blotches or cracks in them. The insides of the houses were as gloomy as the outside. They were all exactly alike. In each a dark entrance passage led to narrow stairs going up to bedrooms, and to