“Who was supposed to have been lost at sea,” corrected Mr Steinherz impressively. “As a matter of fact, he is sitting opposite you now.” “Oh--er--I beg your pardon,” stammered Usk. “Your remark was natural. There is now only one other person besides yourself who knows the truth. In the Schlosskirche at Vindobona I understand there is a cenotaph to the memory of José Maria Beltran, Prince of Arragon, drowned off the Australian coast in the wreck of his yacht, the Claudine, but Joseph Bertram Steinherz could give the lie to that statement if he chose.” “You escaped from the wreck, I suppose, and took advantage of the general belief to disappear--sir?” hazarded Usk. “Not just exactly; but I will tell you all of the story. But, first, remember that you are on your honour not to breathe a word of what I tell you to any living creature, especially to my daughter; and again, don’t make a prince of me. I have turned my back on all of that for ever.” Usk bowed uneasily, as Maimie could just distinguish from where she crouched. She was completely shielded from the sight of Mr Steinherz, although she had ventured to creep out on the balcony, and was now close to them, her black gown indistinguishable in the darkness. Even if Usk should chance to turn his head, she believed that she was quite safe, and could retreat into her own window in a moment. “You will know,” said Mr Steinherz, “that my father, King Paul X. of Cantabria, was driven from his throne in ’48. When I was born he was already an exile at the Court of Vindobona. His mother was a Pannonian archduchess, and the two houses had always been united by the closest bonds. He received at the hands of his cousin the Emperor the honours due to a reigning monarch, and on his death it was only at Vindobona and the Vatican that my brother Ramon was recognised as titular King of Cantabria. Ramon is a man of science and a philosopher, however, and in daily life he contents himself with the older and undisputed title of Prince of Arragon. My mother was a princess of Weldart--an aunt of the lady who has already linked your family and mine by marrying your uncle Count Mortimer.” Maimie saw Usk move uncomfortably, and guessed that he was trying, in a dazed kind of way, to discover whether the connection thus disclosed between himself and Félicia need be any bar to their marriage. The same idea had come to herself with a thrill of hope, but she saw its absurdity in a moment. Mr Steinherz had risen from his chair and was walking about.