Mr. Greatson?"

I tried to see her face, but it was half turned away from me. Her voice,
however, reminded me a little of Isobel's.

"Yes," I admitted slowly. "You see, she was under our care for some
time, and we all grew very fond of her."

"But you--you especially, I mean," she went on. "Do not be afraid of me,
Mr. Greatson. I know that my mother is very angry with you, and has
tried to take Isobel away, but if I were she I would not come. I think
that she must be very much happier as she is."

"I--I am too old," I said slowly, "to dare to be fond of anyone--in that
way."

"How foolish!" she murmured. "Do you know, Mr. Greatson, that I am only
eighteen, and that I am betrothed to the King of Saxonia. He is over
forty, very short, and he has horrid turned-up black moustaches. He is
willing to marry me because I am to have a great fortune, and my mother
is willing for me to marry him because I shall be a Queen. But that is
not happiness, is it?"

"I am afraid not," I answered.

"Mr. Greatson," she continued, "I feel that I can talk to you like this
because I have read your books. I like the heroes so much, and of course
I like the stories too. I think that Isobel is very wise not to want to
come back to Waldenburg. I wish that I were free as she is, and had not
to do things because I am a Princess. And I am sure that she is very
fond of you."

"Princess----" I began.

She stopped me.

"If you knew how I hated that word!" she murmured. "I may never see you
again, you know, after this evening, so it really does not matter--but
would you mind calling me Adelaide?"

"Adelaide, then," I said, "may I ask you a question?"

"As many as you like."

"Do you know where Isobel is now?"

Her surprise was obviously genuine.

"Why, of course not! Is she not at your house in London?"

I shook my head.

"She is a few hours in front of us on her way to Paris," I said, "with
your mother and the Baron von Leibingen and the rest of your people. She
is travelling in your clothes and in your name. That is why you were
left to follow as quietly as possible."

She laid her hand upon my arm. Her eyes were full of tears, and her
voice shook.

"Oh, I am so sorry," she cried softly, "so very sorry. Why cannot my
mother leave her alone with you? I am sure she would be happier."

"I think so too," I answered. "That is why I am going to try and fetch
her back."

She looked at me very anxiously.

"Mr. Greatson," she said