nd when, from the window of the train whence he leaned
at every station, he saw her again at Monte Carlo, she was surrounded by
a crowd. One of the ladies shoulder to shoulder with her might be a
mother or aunt, one of the men a father or uncle; and it had been the
same when he followed, just in time to see her get into the Hotel de
Paris omnibus. Already the vehicle was full. She was the last in. His
idea was that, being the youngest of her party, she had waited for them
to be placed before taking a seat herself.

He knew of her now, having examined the visitors' book at the Paris,
that she was "Miss M. Grant"; that the name was written in a very
pretty, rather old-fashioned hand; that after it came "London" in the
same writing. He was sure the name must be hers, because it was last on
the page before he wrote his own; and she had gone in last, after
everybody else, leaving the people she was with to do their name-signing
before her. Also, the other women on the page were all "Madame" or
"Frau" or "Mrs." He was rather surprised, somehow, to learn that she was
English. In spite of her unusually fair hair he had fancied that she
would turn out to be French, her type was so _spirituelle_, yet so
suggestive of "temperament."

If he had not been following a pair of eyes, Prince Vanno would have
gone to a quiet hotel in the Condamine, to be near the aviation ground,
for, being utterly unsnobbish, like all Italians of great families, he
rather disliked "smart" crowds, rich food, and gorgeous decorations. But
the only way not to lose the stars he followed was to keep near them. He
would not for a great deal have questioned the hotel people about "Miss
M. Grant," otherwise he might have learned for how long a time her room
was engaged, and, incidentally, that she was alone. But as it was, he
had to find out things for himself, and to do this must be in the same
hotel.

It was only seven o'clock when he came down from his little room at the
top of the house, not nearly as expensive as Mary's, and stopped at the
foot of the marble stairs, which he liked better than the lift, to look
round the big hall. There was no great crowd, for most people who had
come in from the Casino were dressing for dinner, and Prince Vanno saw
at a glance that Miss M. Grant was not there. He went on slowly through
the Louis Seize tea-room, to the gorgeous restaurant with its domed and
gilded ceiling, its immense wall paintings, and glass front.

At