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The Orient Express, in which Carlton and the mistress of his heart and fancy were speeding towards the horizon's utmost purple rim, was made up of six cars, one dining-car with a smoking-apartment attached, and five sleeping-cars, including the one reserved for the Duke of Hohenwald and his suite.
In forty-eight hours they had passed through republics, principalities, empires, and kingdoms, and from spring to winter. It was like walking rapidly over a painted panorama of Europe. On the second evening Carlton went off into the smoking-car alone. The Duke of Hohenwald and two of his friends had finished a late supper, and were seated in the apartment adjoining it.
He was apparently in earnest, and waiting for her to make some comment. "How very interesting!" was all she could think to say. "Yes, when you know the details, it is, VERY interesting," he answered. "She is the Princess Aline of Hohenwald," he explained, bowing his head as though he were making the two young ladies known to one another.
She wore a dress of white silk, with train of silver brocade trimmed with fur. Ornaments emeralds and diamonds; orders Victoria and Albert, jubilee Commemoration Medal, Coburg and Gotha, and Hohenwald and Grasse." "By Jove!" cried Carlton, excitedly. "I say, is that really there? Let me see it, please, for myself."
There will be romance enough after I am presented, if I have my way." But Carlton was not to have his way; for he had overlooked the fact that it requires as many to make an introduction as a bargain, and he had left the Duke of Hohenwald out of his considerations.
"I am afraid I had rather go to the Bon March," she said. One of the waiters stepped in between them, and Carlton asked him for his bill; but when it came he left it lying on the plate, and sat staring out into the night between the candles, puffing sharply on his cigar, and recalling to his memory his first sight of the Princess Aline of Hohenwald.
He turned the page and surveyed the features of the Oxford crew with lesser interest, and then turned the page again and gazed critically and severely at the face of the princess with the high-bred smile. He had hoped that he would find it less interesting at a second glance, but it did not prove to be so. "'The Princess Aline of Hohenwald," he read.
Who do you think is in London?" she cried, raising her eyes to his, and pausing for proper dramatic effect. "The Princess Aline of Hohenwald!" "No?" shouted Carlton. "Yes," Miss Morris answered, mocking his tone. "Listen. 'The Queen's Drawing-room' em e m 'on her right was the Princess of Wales' em m. Oh, I can't find it no yes, here it is. 'Next to her stood the Princess Aline of Hohenwald.
Which is Jekyll? You see, I only know your professional side." "You must try to find out for yourself by deduction," he said, "as you picked out the other passengers. I am going to Grasse," he continued. "It's the capital of Hohenwald. Do you know it?" "Yes," she said; "we were there once for a few days. We went to see the pictures.
H. R. H. the Princess Aline of Hohenwald came into the life of Morton Carlton or "Morney" Carlton, as men called him of New York city, when that young gentleman's affairs and affections were best suited to receive her.
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