“What I have to say now is not at all easy for me. In fact I am quite prepared to admit that I find it extremely difficult. The Reigning House of Natalia, I need hardly tell you, would not tolerate for one moment a marriage for their only daughter, with a Prince whose ‘shield was not stainless’—like the Tunstall of your wonderful literature. Her husband must be ‘_sans peur et sans reproche_’ and his blood of the very purest. They favoured my suit from the first—fulfilling as I did these vitally necessary obligations. Judge of my annoyance then, Mr. Bathurst to find myself the recipient of these most insufferable letters, which I will confess, it was not my original intention to show you.” He took from his breast-pocket a packet of letters. “There are five of them in all and they date from nine weeks ago until now—the latest you will observe according to the post-mark on the envelope is dated June 22nd—a week ago. Perhaps you would read this last one, first of all.” Anthony extended his hand for the letter in question. “Westhampton post-mark,” he observed—scrutinising the somewhat blurred stamp on the envelope. His visitor nodded in agreement. Anthony took out the letter itself. It was undated and bore no address. He read it. The handwriting spoke of education and culture. “The disinclination of His Royal Highness to reply to the four letters that he has already received is neither to his credit nor will it be to his advantage. At this period of negotiations he should realise that the writer is not penning these communications simply ‘_pour passer le temps_’. Unless the £50,000 already demanded is forthcoming by the 9th of next month the writer will be reluctantly compelled to add yet another Royal personage to his circle of epistolary acquaintance—the Princess Imogena of Natalia. But he assures His Royal Highness that the course of conduct thus indicated would occasion him extreme regret. His Royal Highness is fully aware that he is still allowed to choose his own method of transmitting the required sum—provided that such method is communicated to the writer through the ‘Agony Column’ of the ‘Times.’” Bathurst wrinkled his brows, “This doesn’t tell me all,” he exclaimed. “May I look at the first letter of the series?” He extended his hand. The Crown Prince looked through his packet of envelopes and handed over the required letter. “Tranfield post-mark this time,” declared Anthony. “What date is this?” He looked at the post-mark very carefully. “April twenty-third—‘Tranfield.’ Let me think for a moment—Tranfield is only a few miles from Westhampton, I fancy.” “You are right,” replied his Royal visitor, “nine—to be precise.”