No, we are in Grosvenor Square," the Prince answered. "I forgot to tell
you that we have a meeting arranged for here this evening. Permit me."
But Lucille resumed her seat in the carriage.

"It is your house, is it not?" she asked.

"Yes. My house assuredly."

"Very well," Lucille said. "I will come in when the Duchess of Dorset
shows herself at the window or the front door--or Felix, or even De
Brouillae."

The Prince still held open the carriage door.

"They will all be here," he assured her. "We are a few minutes early."

"Then I will drive round to Dorset House and fetch the Duchess. It is
only a few yards."

The Prince hesitated. His cheeks were very white, and something like a
scowl was blackening his heavy, insipid face.

"Lucille," he said, "you are very foolish. It is not much I ask of you,
but that little I will have or I pledge my word to it that things shall
go ill with you and your husband. There is plain speech for you. Do not
be absurd. Come within, and let us talk. What do you fear? The house is
full of servants, and the carriage can wait for you here."

Lucille smiled at him--a maddening smile.

"I am not a child," she said, "and such conversations as I am forced to
hold with you will not be under your own roof. Be so good as to tell the
coachman to drive to Dorset House."

The Prince turned on his heel with a furious oath.

"He can drive you to Hell," he answered thickly.

Lucille found the Duchess and Lady Carey together at Dorset House. She
looked from one to the other.

"I thought that there was a meeting to-night," she remarked.

The Duchess shook her head.

"Not to-night," she answered. "It would not be possible. General
Dolinski is dining at Marlborough House, and De Broullae is in Paris.
Now tell us all about Mr. Brott."

"He has gone to Scotland," Lucille answered. "I have failed."

Lady Carey looked up from the depths of the chair in which she was
lounging.

"And the prince?" she asked. "He went to meet you!"

"He also failed," Lucille answered.

CHAPTER XXVII

Mr. SABIN drew a little breath, partly of satisfaction because he
had discovered the place he sought, and partly of disgust at the
neighbourhood in which he found himself. Nevertheless, he descended
three steps from the court into which he had been directed, and pushed
open the swing door, behind which Emil Sachs announced his desire
to supply the world with dinners at eightpence and vin ordinaire at
fou