The universe broke upon his vision as a blurred mass of green and white. He recognised it vaguely as his kingdom beneath the sea, and as in a dream he remembered his promise. He slipped round. His lips met Ottilie's. His arms wound round about her, and he sank, holding her tightly clasped. Strange things happened. He was pulled hither and thither by sea monsters welcoming him to his kingdom. In a confused way he wondered that he could breathe so freely in the depths of the ocean. Unutterable happiness stole upon him. The Kingdom was _real_. His sham Princess would be queen in very truth. But where was she? He opened his eyes and found himself lying on the deck of a ship. A couple of men were doing funny things to his arms. A rosy-faced man in white ducks and a yachting cap stood over him with a glass of brandy. When he had drunk the spirit, the rosy man laughed. "That was a narrow shave. We got you just in time. We were nearly right on you. The young woman is doing well. My wife is looking after her." As soon as he could collect his faculties, Somerset asked, "Are you the _Mavis_?" "Yes." "I felt sure of it. Are you Sir Henry Ransome?" "That's my name." "I heard you were expected at Illerville to-day," said Somerset. "That is why I made for you." The two men who had been doing queer things with his arms wrapped him in a blanket and propped him up against the deck cabin. "But what on earth were you two young people doing in the middle of the English Channel?" asked the owner of the _Mavis_. "We were eloping," said Somerset. The other looked at him for a bewildered moment and burst into a roar of laughter. He turned to the cabin door and disappeared, to emerge a moment afterwards followed by a lady in a morning wrapper. "What do you think, Marian? It's an elopement." Somerset smiled at them. "Have you ever heard of the Princess Rabomirski? You have? Well, this is her daughter. Perhaps you know of the Count Bernheim who is always about with the Princess?" "I trod on him last winter at Monte Carlo," said Sir Henry Ransome. "He survives," said Somerset, "and has bought the Princess Ottilie from her mother. He's not going to get her. She belongs to me. My name is Somerset, and I am foreign sub-editor of the _Daily Post_." "I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Somerset," said Sir Henry with a smile. "And now what can I do for you?" "If you can lend us some clothes and take us to any part on earth save Illerville-sur-Mer, you will earn our eternal gratitude." Sir Henry looked doubtful. "We have made our arrangements for Illerville," said he. His wife broke in. "If you don't take these romantic beings straight to Southampton, I'll never set my foot upon this yacht again." "It was you, my dear, who were crazy to come to Illerville." "Don't you think," said Lady Ransome, "you might provide Mr. Somerset with some dry things?"