think she is interested in awaiting developments.
I am sure of it, for she commanded me to speak to no one concerning
your identity."

"Miss Wellington?" Armitage looked at the woman quickly.

"Her daughter was very particularly included in the orders Mrs.
Wellington gave."

Armitage made no attempt to conceal the pleasure this statement gave
him. Then a thought occurred to him.

"By the way," he said, looking at Miss Hatch keenly, "if I recall, you
said you could not imagine why I am here. In view of all you have told
me, why could n't you?"

Miss Hatch turned and walked toward the door. At the sill she glanced
back over her shoulder and smiled significantly.

"Oh, that was an introductory figure of speech," she said. "I think, I
think I can--imagine."

Then she turned and walking along the hall, with Armitage following,
she sang as though to herself:

"In days of old when knights were bold
And barons held their sway,
A warrior bold with spurs of gold
Sang merrily his lay.
'Oh, what care I though death be nigh,
For love--'"

But Armitage had disappeared.

"Oh, the little more and how much it is,
And the little less and what worlds away."

CHAPTER XIII

ANNE EXHIBITS THE PRINCE

Prince Koltsoff had enjoyed his luncheon, as only an exacting gourmet
whose every canon of taste has been satisfied, can. His appetite was a
many-stringed instrument upon which only the most gifted culinary
artist could play. Now as he sat dallying daintily with his _compote_
of pears it was patent that Rambon, the Wellington chef, had achieved a
dietary symphony.

"Mrs. Wellington," he said at length, "you have a _saucier par
excellence_. That _sauce de cavitar_! If I may say so, it lingers.
Who is he? It seems almost--yet it cannot be true--that I recognize
the genius of Jules Rambon."

"Very well done, Prince Koltsoff," replied Mrs. Wellington, employing
phraseology more noncommittal than Koltsoff realized.

Anne, who had been gazing languidly out a window giving on Brenton's
Reef lightship, where several black torpedo boats and destroyers were
manoeuvring, smiled and glanced at the Prince.

"You have the instincts of a virtuoso. That was really clever of you.
The Duchess d'Izes sent him to mother two years ago. You must speak to
him. I 'm afraid he feels he is not altogether appreciated here."

The Prince raised his hands.

"What a fate!" he exclaimed. "When Rambon was _chef