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Updated: September 22, 2025
They strolled together after the other guests into the winter gardens, which were the envy of every hostess in London. Mr. Sabin lit a cigarette, Mr. Brott regretfully declined. He neither smoked nor drank wine. Yet he was disposed to be friendly, and selected a seat where they were a little apart from the other guests. "You at least," he remarked, in answer to an observation of Mr.
Reginald Brott is in the small drawing-room, your Grace," he announced. "He enquired for the Countess Radantz." Lucille rose. When the servant had disappeared she turned round for a moment, and faced the Prince. A spot of colour burned in her cheeks, her eyes were bright with anger. "I shall remember your words, Prince," she said.
Who can say what honours may not be in store for us? For I, too, am of the Royal House, Lucille. I am his kinsman. He never forgets that. Come, throw aside this restlessness. I will tell you how to deal with Brott, and the publicity, after all, will be nothing. We will go abroad directly afterwards." "Have you finished?" she asked. "You will be reasonable!" he begged. "Reasonable!"
I left my card tied to them with a message for him." Lady Carey yawned. "A remarkably foolish thing to do," she said. "That may cause you trouble later on. Great heavens, what is this?" She held the evening paper open in her hand. Lucille leaned over with blanched face. "What has happened?" she cried. "Tell me, can't you!" "Reginald Brott has been shot in Piccadilly," Lady Carey said.
Yet he seemed the victim of a curious indecision. Grahame leaned over towards him. "Brott, old friend," he said, "you are not ill?" Brott shook his head. "I am perfectly well," he said. Grahame hesitated. "It is a delicate thing to mention," he said. "Perhaps I shall pass even the bounds of our old comradeship. But you have changed. Something is wrong with you. What is it?"
I have often wished that this could be more generally understood. I find myself at times very unpopular with people, whose good opinion I am anxious to retain, simply owing to this too general misapprehension." Mr. Sabin smiled gently. "You were referring without doubt " he began. "To the Countess," Brott admitted. "Yes, it is true.
"Yes," he said, "I know her very well. Is she in London?" Mr. Brott hesitated. He seemed a little uncertain how to continue. "To tell you the truth," he said, "I believe that she has reasons for desiring her present whereabouts to remain unknown. I should perhaps not have mentioned her name at all. It was, I fancy, indiscreet of me.
Lady Carey left her partner, and made her way to the farther end of the apartment, where the Prince of Saxe Leinitzer was supping with half a dozen men and women. She touched him on the shoulder. "I want to speak to you for a moment, Ferdinand," she whispered. He rose at once, and she drew him a little apart. "Brott is here," she said slowly. "Brott here!" he repeated. "And Lucille?"
"Your flight," he said coolly, "will be looked upon from a different point of view, for Reginald Brott must follow you. It will be an elopement, not a flight from justice." "And in case I should decline?" Lucille asked quietly. The Prince shrugged his shoulders. "Well, we have done the best we can for ourselves," he said. "Come, I will be frank with you.
I do not think that the Prince has given up all hopes of Reginald Brott yet." Lucille was silent. So her emancipation was to be postponed. After all, it was what she had feared. She sat watching idly the Duchess's knitting needles. Lady Carey came sweeping in, wonderful in a black velvet gown and a display of jewels almost barbaric. "On my way to the opera," she announced.
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