her hand with a sad smile.

"Let my people take you wherever you want to go," she invited, "and
remember," she added, dropping her voice, "I do not admit defeat. This
is not the last word between us."

She disappeared in some state, escorted through the great front door of
one of London's few palaces by an attractive major-domo and footman in
the livery of her House. Dominey drove back to the Carlton, where in the
lounge he found the band playing, crowds still sitting around, amongst
whom Seaman was conspicuous, in his neat dinner clothes and with his
cherubic air of inviting attention from prospective new acquaintances.
He greeted Dominey enthusiastically.

"Come," he exclaimed, "I am weary of solitude! I have seen scarcely a
face that I recognise. My tongue is parched with inaction. I like to
talk, and there has been no one to talk to. I might as well have opened
up my little house in Forest Hill."

"I'll talk to you if you like," Dominey promised a little grimly,
glancing at the clock and hastily ordering a whisky and soda. "I
will begin by telling you this," he added, lowering his tone. "I
have discovered the greatest danger I shall have to face during my
enterprise."

"What is that?"

"A woman--the Princess Eiderstrom."

Seaman lit one of his inevitable cigars and threw one of his short, fat
legs over the other. He gazed for a moment with an air of satisfaction
at his small foot, neatly encased in court shoes.

"You surprise me," he confessed. "I have considered the matter. I cannot
see any great difficulty."

"Then you must be closing your eyes to it willfully," Dominey retorted,
"or else you are wholly ignorant of the Princess's temperament and
disposition."

"I believe I appreciate both," Seaman replied, "but I still do not see
any peculiar difficulty in the situation. As an English nobleman
you have a perfect right to enjoy the friendship of the Princess
Eiderstrom."

"And I thought you were a man of sentiment!" Dominey scoffed. "I
thought you understood a little of human nature. Stephanie Eiderstrom is
Hungarian born and bred. Even race has never taught her self-restraint.
You don't seriously suppose that after all these years, after all she
has suffered--and she has suffered--she is going to be content with an
emasculated form of friendship? I talk to you without reserve, Seaman.
She has made it very plain to-night that she is going to be content with
nothing of the sort."

"What takes place