Here and there between the houses, a glimpse might be had of the low country beyond, with its sluggish canal choked with rushes, a dingy windmill here and there, and stretching away on either side the flat meadows crinkling with yellow grain, and the green pastures dotted with huge black-and-white cattle. A narrow road, straight as a line in Euclid, and bordered by a row of trees each the counterpart of all the others, mounted toward the horizon, leading, principally, to a low, yellow house about a mile away, displaying above its door the appropriate motto, "Lust en Rust." There, either in the cool, vine-shaded garden, in the long, low-ceilinged dining-room, or in some smaller and more ornate apartment, one might breakfast, dine, what not, in the fashion of the country--which, for the most part, meant the drinking of a muddy liquid with an unpronounceable name and the eating of wafelen and poffertjes, and of little cheeses calculated to appal the strongest stomach. The shops and the landscape--the cosmopolitan crowd with its Babel of many tongues--the great hotels, built of stucco in the nouveau-riche style so rasping to sensitive nerves--the striped awnings, the low balconies, the gaudy house-fronts--all these our heroines looked at and commented on and revelled in with the joy of fresh and unspoiled youth. It was life they were tasting--strange, interesting, intoxicating life--and they drank deep of it. As they neared the hotel entrance, they saw coming from the other direction, pushed by two men, an invalid chair. They stood aside to let it pass, and its occupant, carefully wrapped in a great steamer-rug, glanced up at them with a quizzical light in his eyes. They shrank back together against the wall with a simultaneous gasp of dismay, for the invalid was their athletic rescuer of an hour before. The chair went on to the desk, where it paused, while its occupant wrote a hasty sentence on a slip of paper, which he tore from his notebook. A moment later, it was presented to Susie by one of his attendants. She took it mechanically, and, with a low bow, the messenger hurried back to the chair. "What in the world," she began dazedly; then she unfolded the paper and read: "Lord Vernon will be deeply grateful if he is not mentioned in connection with today's adventure." CHAPTER V Tellier Takes a Hand The Prince continued his walk to the limits of the beach, with Jax trotting humbly at his heels; then he returned slowly to the hotel and mounted to his apartment. "That will do, Glück," he said, as he gave him his hat and gloves. "Don't let me be disturbed." And Glück, with his imperturbable mahogany face, silently withdrew to mount guard without the door. The Prince sat down, lighted a cigarette, and stared moodily out of the window, down upon the shifting crowd which still thronged the beach. His hand, hanging inert by his side, became suddenly the receptacle for a moist nose.