our appeal
in fear and trembling. I confess that I am very much afraid. But, come
now, I am going to be generous. I am going to help you on a little. Do
you know to whom your appeal must be made?"

"To the Grand Duke!" Mr. Sabin replied.

The Prince shook his head.

"Ah me!" he said, "how long indeed you have been absent from the world.
The Grand Duke is no longer the head of our little affair. Shall I tell
you who has succeeded him?"

"I can easily find out," Mr. Sabin answered.

"Ah, but I warned you that I was in a generous mood," the Prince said,
with a smile. "I will save you the trouble. With your permission I will
whisper the name in your ear. It is not one which we mention lightly."

He stepped forward and bent his head for a moment. Afterwards, as he
drew back, the smile upon his lips broadened until he showed all his
teeth. It was a veritable triumph. Mr. Sabin, taken wholly by surprise,
had not been able to conceal his consternation.

"It is not possible," he exclaimed hoarsely. "He would not dare."

But in his heart he knew that the Prince had spoken the truth.

CHAPTER XXIII

"After all," said the Prince, looking up from the wine list, "why cannot
I be satisfied with you? And why cannot you be satisfied with me? It
would save so much trouble."

Lady Carey, who was slowly unwinding the white veil from her picture
hat, shrugged her shoulders.

"My dear man," she said, "you could not seriously expect me to fall in
love with you."

The Prince sipped his wine--a cabinet hock of rare vintage--and found it
good. He leaned over towards his companion.

"Why not?" he asked. "I wish that you would try--in earnest, I mean.
You are capable of great things, I believe--perhaps of the great passion
itself."

"Perhaps," she murmured derisively.

"And yet," he continued, "there has always been in our love-making a
touch of amateurishness. It is an awkward word, but I do not know how
better to explain myself."

"I understand you perfectly," she answered. "I can also, I think,
explain it. It is because I never cared a rap about you."

The Prince did not appear altogether pleased. He curled his fair
moustache, and looked deprecatingly at his companion. She had so much
the air of a woman who has spoken the truth.

"My dear Muriel!" he protested.

She looked at him insolently.

"My good man," she said, "whatever you do don't try and be sentimental.
You know quite well that I have never in my life p