e expect to get them. I have watched him day by day. My
confidence in him has grown."

Stephanie was silent. She sat looking into the fire. Seaman, keenly
observant as always, realised the change in her, yet found something of
mystery in her new detachment of manner.

"Your Highness," he urged, "I am not here to speak on behalf of the man
who at heart is, I know, your lover. He will plead his own cause when
the time comes. But I am here to plead for patience, I am here to
implore you to take no rash step, to do nothing which might imperil in
any way his position here. I stand outside the gates of the world which
your sex can make a paradise. I am no judge of the things that happen
there. But in your heart I feel there is bitterness, because the man
for whom you care has chosen to place his country first. I implore your
patience, Princess. I implore you to believe what I know so well,--that
it is the sternest sense of duty only which is the foundation of Leopold
Von Ragastein's obdurate attitude."

"What are you afraid that I shall do?" she asked curiously.

"I am afraid of nothing--directly."

"Indirectly, then? Answer me, please."

"I am afraid," he admitted frankly, "that in some corner of the world,
if not in this country, you might whisper a word, a scoffing or an angry
sentence, which would make people wonder what grudge you had against a
simple Norfolk baronet. I would not like that word to be spoken in
the presence of any one who knew your history and realised the rather
amazing likeness between Sir Everard Dominey and Baron Leopold Von
Ragastein."

"I see," Stephanie murmured, a faint smile parting her lips. "Well, Mr.
Seaman, I do not think that you need have many fears. What I shall carry
away with me in my heart is not for you or any man to know. In a few
days I shall leave this country."

"You are going back to Berlin--to Hungary?"

She shook her head, beckoned her maid to open the door, and held out her
hand in token of dismissal.

"I am going to take a sea voyage," she announced. "I shall go to
Africa."

The morrow was a day of mild surprises. Eddy Pelham's empty place was
the first to attract notice, towards the end of breakfast time.

"Where's the pink and white immaculate?" the Right Honourable gentleman
asked. "I miss my morning wonder as to how he tied his tie."

"Gone," Dominey replied, looking round from the sideboard.

"Gone?" every one repeated.

"I should think such a thing