There, in the grey light of dawn, I stood gazing down upon the be-drugged son of the Emperor, feeling relief that he was back again, and that no trouble had resulted from his escapade. I called the valet, and, having handed his master over to him, I went out, and, finding a taxi, drove out to Lung Ching's place in Limehouse. I knew the sign, and was soon admitted into the close, sickly-smelling place, which reeked with opium. The villainous Chinaman, with a face like parchment, came forward, and instantly recognized me as the companion of the young German millionaire, Herr Lehnhardt. Of him I inquired what my master had been doing during the night. "Oh, 'e smoke--'e likee pipee!" was the evil, yellow-faced ruffian's reply. "Was he alone?" "Oh, no. 'E no alonee. 'E lil ladee," and he grinned. "She likee pipee. Come, you see--eh?" The fellow took me into the long, low-ceilinged room, fitted with bunks, in which were a dozen or so sleeping Chinamen. Suddenly he indicated a bunk wherein lay a girl huddled up--a well-dressed English girl. Her hat and jacket had been removed, and she lay, her face full in the light, her arm above her head, her eyes closed in sound slumber, with the deadly pipe beside her. I bent to examine her pale countenance more closely. I started. Yes! I had not been mistaken. She was the young daughter of one of the best-known and most popular leaders of London society. I had no idea until that moment that she and the Crown-Prince were such friends. A fortnight before the Crown-Prince, as Herr Lehnhardt, had attended a gay river party at Henley, and I had accompanied him. At the party the pair had been introduced in my presence. And now, within those few days, I found her oblivious to the world in the worst opium den in London! After considerable effort, I aroused her. But she was still dazed from the effect of the drug, so dazed, indeed, that she did not recognize me. However, I got her into a taxi, and having ascertained her mother's address from the "Royal Blue Book" in the London club of which I was a member, and where I arrived at an unearthly hour, I took her to Upper Brocklion Street. Of the woman who opened the door I learned, to my relief, that the family were at their place in Scotland, and that the house, enshrouded in dust-sheets, was in the hands of herself and her husband as caretakers. When I half lifted the young lady--whom I will here call Miss Violet Hewitt for the sake of the good name of her family--out of the taxi the woman became greatly alarmed. But I assured her there was nothing wrong; her young mistress had been taken ill, but was now much better. A doctor was not needed. For half an hour I remained there with her, and then, as she had recovered sufficiently, I rose to go, intending to let her make her own explanations to the caretaker.