ined admission for the pair into
strange societies. The civil authorities were never taken into the
secret of these adventures; the imperturbable courage of the one and the
ready invention and chivalrous devotion of the other had brought them
through a score of dangerous passes; and they grew in confidence as time
went on.

One evening in March they were driven by a sharp fall of sleet into an
Oyster Bar in the immediate neighbourhood of Leicester Square. Colonel
Geraldine was dressed and painted to represent a person connected with
the Press in reduced circumstances; while the Prince had, as usual,
travestied his appearance by the addition of false whiskers and a pair
of large adhesive eyebrows. These lent him a shaggy and weather-beaten
air, which, for one of his urbanity, formed the most impenetrable
disguise. Thus equipped, the commander and his satellite sipped their
brandy and soda in security.

The bar was full of guests, male and female; but though more than one of
these offered to fall into talk with our adventurers, none of them
promised to grow interesting upon a nearer acquaintance. There was
nothing present but the lees of London and the commonplace of
disrespectability; and the Prince had already fallen to yawning, and was
beginning to grow weary of the whole excursion, when the swing doors
were pushed violently open, and a young man, followed by a couple of
commissionaires, entered the bar. Each of the commissionaires carried a
large dish of cream tarts under a cover, which they at once removed; and
the young man made the round of the company, and pressed these
confections upon every one's acceptance with an exaggerated courtesy.
Sometimes the offer was laughingly accepted; sometimes it was firmly, or
even harshly, rejected. In these latter cases the new-comer always ate
the tart himself, with some more or less humorous commentary.

At last he accosted Prince Florizel.

"Sir," said he, with a profound obeisance, proffering the tart at the
same time between his thumb and forefinger, "will you so far honour an
entire stranger? I can answer for the quality of the pastry, having
eaten two dozen and three of them myself since five o'clock."

"I am in the habit," replied the Prince, "of looking not so much to the
nature of a gift as to the spirit in which it is offered."

"The spirit, sir," returned the young man, with another bow, "is one of
mockery."

"Mockery!" repeated Florizel. "And whom do you pro