no address;
but if monsieur wished to write a letter, it would be sent forward as
soon as an address was received.

The visitor declined to write a letter, but left his card--or, at least,
a card--to be given to M. Chevrial upon his return. Then he took his
leave. And the proprietor stuck the card in the frame of the clouded
mirror back of the bar, chuckling to himself.

A report of all which Pachmann duly received by radio next day.

* * * * *

The Prince, meanwhile, was finding the voyage wearisome. He was not a
difficult person to amuse, and he was very expert in the art of killing
time; he had done little else since he emerged from the nursery; but
here on shipboard he possessed none of the implements with which he
usually carried on that slaughter. He could sit in the smoking-room with
a tall stein before him, he could stroll about the deck and stare at the
sea, which he did not care for; but there was no one to talk to. His
subjects of conversation were limited, and all of them were associated
more or less with his princely character; here, where, for the first
time in his life, he found himself divested of that princely character,
he was completely at a loss. The trouble was that he had no sense of
humour. So he found it impossible to gossip with plebeian unknowns, or
engage in card-games with irreverent middle-class artisans and drummers.
He could not even carry on a flirtation with any of the pretty girls! He
had attempted it with one of them; but, after a very few minutes, she
had left him with her chin in the air, and an exclamation which sounded
singularly like "Beast!" What is gallantry in a Prince, is impertinence
or worse in a less-privileged person!

Remember, our Prince was merely a good-natured, thick-headed, young man,
who had always been compelled to take himself seriously, whose life had
been ordered for him from day to day to its minutest detail; who had
never been called upon to use his wits in earnest. There had always been
some one to do his thinking for him; there had always been the routine
of drill and study to fill a certain portion of every day; and there had
always been the fearful delight of escaping from his father's eye and
roaming the streets of Berlin in quest of adventure. But here on
shipboard, the day was twenty-four empty hours long, and even Pachmann
had deserted him, to spend his time asking the passengers interminable
questions, whose purpos