emed strangely
agitated for a moment or two, Genevra, and then he laughed--yes, laughed
in my face, although it was such a long way off. People can do what they
like over the telephone, my dear. I asked him if he was ill, or had been
hurt. He said he never felt better in his life and hadn't a scratch. He
laughed--I suppose to show me that he was all right. Then he said he was
much obliged to me for calling him up. He'd quite forgotten to go to
bed. He asked me to thank you for bringing a warship. You saved his
life. Really, one would think you were quite a heroine--or a Godsend or
something like that. I never heard anything sweeter than the way he said
good-night to me. There!"

The light in the bungalow bobbed mysteriously for an instant and then
went out.

"How far is it from here?" asked the Princess abruptly.

"Nearly two miles as the crow flies--only there are no crows here. Five
miles by the road, I fancy, isn't it, Bobby? I call him Bobby, you know,
when we are all on good terms. I don't see why I shouldn't if you stop
to think how near to being married to each other we are at this very
instant."

"I wonder if help could reach him quickly in the event of an attack?"

"It could, if he'd have the kindness to notify us by 'phone," said
Browne.

"But he wouldn't telephone to us," said Lady Deppingham ruefully. "He's
not so communicative as that."

"Surely he would call upon you for help if he----"

"You don't know him, Genevra."

The Princess smiled in a vague sort of way. "I've met him quite
informally, if you remember."

"I should say it was informally. It's the most delicious story I've ever
heard. You must tell it to Mr. Browne, dear. It's all about the Enemy in
Thorberg, Mr. Browne. There's your wife calling, Bobby. She wants you to
tell that story again, about the bishop who rang the door bell."

The next morning the captain of the _King's Own_ came ashore and was
taken to the chateau for dejeuner. Late in the afternoon, the Marquess
and his party, saying farewell to the Princess and the revived legatees,
put out to the yacht and steamed away in the wake of the great warship.
The yacht was to return in a month, to pick up the Princess.

Genevra, her maids, her men and her boxes, her poodle and her dachshund,
were left behind for the month of March. Not without misgiving, it must
be said, for the Marquess, her uncle, was not disposed to look upon the
island situation as a spot of long-continued pe