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No faces of any kind now greeted him there; only trees confronted him, gaunt, ghostlike in the early morning mists. Even the squirrels were yet abed in their miniature Swiss chalets in the air. The sun rose at last, red and threatening. He now met a policeman who looked at him questioningly. Mr. Heatherbloom greeted him with a blitheness at variance with his mood.
I haven't always had so good a time as I seemed to " There was a ring of passion in her tone now. "What happened?" she said, turning on him swiftly. "What has happened? I want to know all " "You mean about the prince?" "I know all I want to know about him," scornfully. "I mean" her slender figure bent toward Mr. Heatherbloom "you! What has taken place, and why has it? What does it all mean?
"Mademoiselle may be generous, and mon Dieu! very persuasive, but she doesn't get me to " "What was her proposal? Answer." Sternly. "You can't incriminate yourself here." Francois knew that. The cell was remote. There could be no harm in letting the talk drift a little further. He replied, briefly outlining the plan. "Excellent!" observed Mr. Heatherbloom. "Mere madness!" reiterated Francois.
"Make for the nearest American port. How far is it?" Mr. Heatherbloom's prompting whisper was audible only to his excellency. "Five hours," came over the wire. Mr. Heatherbloom experienced a thrill of satisfaction. They were nearer the coast than he had supposed. He knew the yacht had been taking a southerly course; he had considered that when the bold idea came to act as he was doing.
Betty Dalrymple's voice came back to her suddenly; she exclaimed wildly, incoherently. But the foreman of the stokers raised the bar, waited. He found his opportunity; his arm descended. Mr. Heatherbloom regained consciousness, or semi-consciousness, in an ill-smelling place.
Oh, yes," he assented, with false enthusiasm, when a black and white apparition appeared before them, no less a person than Sir Charles. The governor, as the bearer of particular news, had been looking for her. Mr. Heatherbloom hardly appreciated the preamble or the importance of what followed.
Miss Dalrymple had seated herself at the piano; her fingers light as spirit touches now swept the keys; a Debussey fantasy, almost as pianissimo as one could play it, vibrated around them. Outside the whir! whir! of the skates went on. A little girl tumbled. Mr. Heatherbloom regarded her; ribbons awry; fat legs in the air. The music continued. "You may go," said a severe voice.
Heatherbloom "contingencies may arise when one can best serve those who employ him by secretly opposing them." "I don't understand, Monsieur," said Francois cautiously. "The prince is a madman. By incurring the enmity of his Imperial Master he would rush on to his own destruction. Suppose by this misalliance, the very map of Europe itself were destined to be changed?"
Rattle! bang! went the iron-rimmed wheels of other rougher vehicles. Bing! bang! sounded the piano like a soul in torment. Horatio Heatherbloom stood motionless; then his figure swayed slightly.
"Ah?" she said quickly. "In my mind! You will excuse me, but do you know that night after I had consigned him to your care in the park, I afterward felt quite anxious " "For what?" She came closer. "Wondering if you Ha! ha!" Mr. Heatherbloom stopped; in his confusion, his endeavor to turn the conversation from himself and Miss Dalrymple, he seemed to be getting into deep waters.
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