"You will be king, eh?--and alone? Good!" He put on his top hat, adjusted his silk muffler about his throat, and with an amiable nod to his companion, stepped out into the night. The fog had thinned to a nebulous haze, fine as a lady's veil, and the young man strode along briskly. Ten minutes brought him to the waiting hansom. "Covent Garden," he directed the driver. He sprang in and leaned back against the cushions. "So Baggin would be king!" He smiled with a certain grimness. CHAPTER III IN WHICH A CERTAIN MOMENTOUS QUESTION IS ASKED At precisely ten o'clock, as the curtain came reefing slowly down upon the first act of _I Pagliacci_, Lady Dinsmore turned with outstretched hand to greet a newcomer who had just entered the box. "My dear count," she exclaimed, "I am disappointed in you! Here I have been paying you really quite tremendous compliments to these young people--which for an old woman, you know, is very proper--and you show your complete indifference to me by committing the worst crime in the calendar!" "I am desolated!" The stranger who was bowing over her hand, a trifle lower than an Englishman would have done, was slender and distinguished looking, faultlessly dressed, and wearing a bunch of Parma violets. He had a way of looking at one gravely with an air of concentrated attention, as if he were seeing through the words, into the very soul of the speaker. He was, indeed, a wonderful listener, and this quality, added to a certain boyish candour of temperament, accounted perhaps for Count Poltavo's popularity in society. "Before I ask you to name the crime, Lady Dinsmore," he said, "or to inform me if the calendar is a lady's, permit me to offer my humblest apologies for my lateness." Lady Dinsmore shook her head at him. "You are incorrigible!" she declared. "But sit down and make your excuses at your leisure. You know my niece, and I think you have met Mr. Van Ingen. He is one of our future diplomats." The count bowed and sank into a chair beside his hostess. Van Ingen, after a frigidly polite acknowledgment, resumed his conversation with Doris rather eagerly, and Lady Dinsmore turned to her companion. "Now for the explanation," she exclaimed briskly. "I shall not let you off! Unpunctuality _is_ a crime, and your punishment shall be to confess its cause." Count Poltavo bent toward her with bright, smiling eyes. "A very stupid and foolish business engagement," he replied, "which required my personal attendance. Shall I give you the details? I warn you in advance they will bore you frightfully! They did me."