quite alone down
there, and perhaps it would be as well that you were out of London for
a few weeks. If it does not come to anything we can easily make an
excuse to get away."

Forrest nodded.

"But who is this young man, De la Borne?" he asked. "I don't mean that.
I know who he is, of course, but why should he invite perfect strangers
to stay with him?"

The Princess smiled faintly.

"Can't you see," she answered, "that he is simply a silly boy? He is
only twenty-four years old, and I think that he cannot have seen much
of the world. He told me that he had just been abroad for the first
time. He fancies that he is a little in love with me, and he is
dazzled, of course, by the idea of Jeanne's fortune. He wants to play
the host to us. Let him. I should be glad enough to get away for a few
weeks, if only to escape from these pestering letters. I do think that
one's tradespeople might let one alone until the end of the season."

Forrest, who was feeling a good deal braver since dinner, on the whole
favoured the idea.

"I do not see," he remarked, "why it should not work out very well
indeed. There will be nothing to do in the evenings except to play
bridge, and no one to interfere."

"Besides which," the Princess remarked, "you will be out of London for
a few weeks, and I dare say that if you keep away from the clubs for a
time and lose a few rubbers when you get back your little trouble may
blow over."

"I suppose," Forrest remarked thoughtfully, "this young De la Borne has
no people living with him, guardians, or that sort of thing?"

"No one of any account," the Princess answered. "His father and mother
are both dead. I am afraid, though, he will not be of any use to you,
for from what I can hear he is quite poor. However, Engleton ought to
be quite enough if we can keep him in the humour for playing."

"Ask him a few more questions about the place," Forrest said. "If it
seems all right, I should like to start as soon as possible."

They had their coffee at a little table in the foyer, which was already
crowded with people. Their conversation was often interrupted by the
salutations of passing acquaintances. Jeanne alone looked about her
with any interest. To the others, this sort of thing--the music of the
red-coated band, the flowers, and the passing throngs of people, the
handsomest and the weariest crowd in the world--were only part of the
treadmill of life.

"By the by, Mr. De la Borne," the Princ