ing the remainder of that
eventful day, until the hour of the Prince's arrival, the Abbe did not
enjoy his customary placidity. A secretary of the Turkish embassy who
called at four found him engaged in a violent discussion with one of the
Rothschilds about the early Christians' belief in demons, as shown by
Tertullian and others, while Lord Middlesex, who called at half-past
five, found he had captured Faure, installed him at the piano, and was
inducing him to hum snatches from "Don Juan." When his dinner hour
arrived, having given orders to his valet to admit no one lest he should
be discovered _not_ fasting, he hastily swallowed a few mouthfuls,
fortified himself with a couple of glasses of Chartreuse verte, and
lighting an enormous "imperial," awaited the coming of the messenger of
Satan. At half-past nine o'clock precisely the Prince arrived. He was in
full evening dress (but contrary to his usual custom, wearing no
decoration or ribbon in his buttonhole), and his face was of a deadly
pallor.

"_Mon Dieu!_" exclaimed the Abbe, "What is the matter with you, _mon
cher_? You are looking very ill. We had better postpone our visit."

"No; it is nothing," replied the Prince gravely. "Let us be off without
delay. In matters of this sort waiting is unbearable."

The Abbe rose, and rang the bell for his hat and cloak. The appearance
of the Prince, his evident agitation, and his unfeigned impatience,
which seemed to betoken terror, were far from reassuring, but the Abbe
promptly quelled any misgivings he might have felt. Suddenly a thought
struck him; a thought which certainly his brain would never have
engendered had it been in its normal condition.

"Perhaps I had better change my dress, and go _en pekin_?" he inquired
anxiously.

The ghost of a sarcastic smile flitted across the Prince's face, as he
replied,

"No, certainly not. Your _soutane_ will be in every way acceptable.
Come, let us be off."

The Abbe made a grimace, put on his hat, flung his cloak around his
shoulders, and followed the Prince down stairs. He remarked with some
surprise that the carriage awaiting them was not the Prince's.

"I have hired a carriage for the occasion," remarked Pomerantseff
quietly, noticing Gerard's glance of surprise. "I am unwilling that my
servants should suspect anything of this."

They entered the carriage, and the coachman, evidently instructed
beforehand where to go, drove off without delay. The Prince immediately