"I received an anonymous letter this morning, telling me of your goings-on with Bobby Browne," said he easily. "It was stuck under my door by Bromley, who said that Miss Pelham gave it to her. Miss Pelham referred me to Mr. Britt and Mr. Britt urged me to keep the letter for future reference. I think he said it could be used as Exhibit A. Then he advised me to beat you only in the presence of witnesses." "The whole household must be going mad," cried Genevra with a laugh. "Oh, if something only would happen!" exclaimed her ladyship. "A riot, a massacre--anything! It all sounds like a farce to you, Genevra, but you haven't been here for five months, as we have." As they moved away from the vine-covered nook in the garden, a hand parted the leaves in the balcony above and a dark, saturnine face appeared behind it. The two women would have felt extremely uncomfortable had they known that a supposedly trusted servant had followed them from the distant corridor, where he had heard every word of their conversation. This secret espionage had been going on for days in the château; scarcely a move was made or a word spoken by the white people that escaped the attention of a swarthy spy. And, curiously enough, these spies were no longer reporting their discoveries to Hollingsworth Chase. The days passed. Hollingsworth Chase now realised that he no longer had authority over the natives; they suffered him to come and go, but gave no heed to his suggestions. Rasula made the reports for the islanders and took charge of the statements from the bank. Every morning he rode boldly into the town, transacted what business he could, talked with the thoroughly disturbed bankers, and then defiantly made his way to the château. He was in love with the Princess-- desperately in love. He understood perfectly--for he was a man of the world and cosmopolitan--that nothing could come of it. She was a princess and she was not in a story book; she _could_ not marry him. It was out of the question; of that he was thoroughly convinced, even in the beginning. So far as Genevra was concerned, on her part it could mean no more than a diversion, a condescension to coquetry, a simple flirtation; it meant the passing of a few days, the killing of time, the pleasure of gentle conquest, and then--forgetfulness. All this he knew and reckoned with, for she was a princess and he but a plebeian passing by. At first she revolted against the court he so plainly paid to her in these last few days; it was bold, conscienceless, impertinent. She avoided him; she treated him to a short season of disdain; she did all in her power to rebuke his effrontery--and then in the end she surrendered to the overpowering vanity which confronts all women who put the pride of caste against the pride of conquest.