nts me."

She raised her eyes, gave one fleeting glance to Prince Udo, and
withdrew.

"A hateful woman," said Hyacinth. "What shall we do with her?"

"I think," said Udo, "that I had better speak to her seriously first.
I have no doubt that I can drag from her the truth of her conspiracy
against you. There may be others in it, in which case we shall have
to proceed with caution; on the other hand, it may be just misplaced
zeal on her part, in which case----"

"Was it misplaced zeal which made her turn you into a----?"

Udo held up his hand hastily.

"I have not forgotten that," he said. "Be sure that I shall exact
full reparation. Let me see; _which_ is the way to her garden?"

Hyacinth did not know quite what to make of her guest. At the moment
when she first saw him in his proper form the improvement on his late
appearance had been so marked that he had seemed almost the handsome
young Prince of her dreams. Every minute after that had detracted
from him. His face was too heavy, his manner was too pompous; one of
these days he would be too fat.

Moreover he was just a little too sure of his position in her house.
She had wanted his help, but she did not want so much of it as she
seemed to be likely to get.

Udo, feeling that it was going to be rather a nice day, went into
Belvane's garden. He had been there once before; it seemed to him a
very much prettier garden this morning, and the woman who was again
awaiting him much more desirable.

Belvane made room for him on the seat next to her.

"This is where I sit when I write my poetry," she said. "I don't know
if your Royal Highness is fond of poetry?"

"Extremely," said Udo. "I have never actually written any or indeed
read much, but I have a great admiration for those who--er--admire it.
But it was not to talk about poetry that I came out here, Countess."

"No?" said Belvane. "But your Royal Highness must have read the works
of Sacharino, the famous bard of Araby?"

"Sacharino, of course. 'Blood for something, something----He who
something----' I mean, it's a delightful little thing. Everybody
knows it. But it was to talk about something very different that
I----"

"_Blood for blood and shoon for shoon,_
_He who runs may read my rune,_"

quoted Belvane softly. "It is perhaps Sacharino's most perfect gem."

"That's it," cried Udo excitedly. "I knew I knew it, if only I
could----" He broke off suddenly, remembering the ci