e prince's valet was a long while cleaning him; but directly after his
tea he was out on the sands again, seeking Pollyooly.

CHAPTER XV

THE ATTITUDE OF THE GRAND DUKE

The baron's bitterness was deepened by this accident to his charge; and
he continued stubbornly to lay the blame of it on Pollyooly: if she had
not actually flung him into the dyke, she had led him into the marsh,
where the dyke was. Then two mornings later there came a telegram to
inform him that the Grand Duke of Lippe-Schweidnitz, on his way to
answer the letter of appeal in person, was already in London, and would
reach Pyechurch early in the afternoon. The baron was a glad man. All
the morning, reclined in his deck-chair, with eyes full of a gloating
triumph, he watched Pollyooly direct the play of the prince; and as he
watched he hummed an aria, the same aria, of Mozart. He foresaw a
speedy end to this distressing social entanglement and her evil
domination.

At lunch he informed his royal charge of the coming of his august sire,
and told him that he must stay at home to welcome him.

"I go do blay wiz Bollyooly," said his young charge stolidly.

"You vill nod go," said the baron firmly.

His young charge said no more; he only looked at his beaming preceptor
with eyes cold with the steeliest contempt. The baron failed to grasp
the purport of the look.

After lunch he had the prince carefully cleaned, and then set him in an
easy chair under his eye, to await the coming of his august sire, who
would arrive about a quarter to three. Then he walked up and down the
room working out the most effective presentation of his indictment of
Pollyooly and the social entanglement. At intervals he gesticulated
and muttered a phrase. He was making excellent progress with it and at
five and twenty minutes to three he was at the end of it. The prince
sat stolidly in the easy chair by the long windows. At twenty-four
minutes to three the baron flung out the last damning phrase (with the
appropriate splendid gesture) at his image in the looking-glass over
the mantelpiece. Then he turned to beam triumphantly on his little
charge. The easy chair was empty; the prince had gone.

With language far less sonorous, but more staccato, the baron bounced
to the window, just in time to see his little charge disappear swiftly
over the edge of the sea-wall fifty yards away. Unfortunately the
baron wore his hair too short to be able to tear handfuls of