Pamela understood she would not bid them welcome. At the same moment the royal carriage halted in its turn; but Miss Falcon, alighting, did not pause to pay the respect etiquette demanded. She pushed open the gate, and went quickly across the flagged courtyard towards the little house which stood square and solid, with pedimented portico, before them.
As Pamela hurried after she saw that a light shone through the cracks of the shuttered ground floor windows. Miss Falcon inserted a key in the lock and opened the house door. She drew Pamela into an oak-panelled hall, dimly lit with a couple of candles in a silver candelabra, and herself stood in the aperture.
She dropped a profound curtsy as the Prince appeared, followed by Mr. Sheridan and that other gentleman whom Pamela supposed to be the equerry-in-waiting.
“Forgive me, sir,” her voice was low and tired, and it struck Pamela that something had gone out of it—the fire and thrill and youthful pathos that had made it every moment an appeal—“that you should have such a poor reception. Since I was not prepared for the honour, since it was your pleasure to surprise me by this favour, I must beg you to take me as I am. There are no servants here to-night.”
She moved backwards as she spoke. Theatrical training stood her in good stead. The movement was perfect.
“Will you condescend to enter? Mr. Sheridan, pray close the door behind His Highness.”
She preceded the Prince, still backing easily, to a parlour on the right of the entrance. It was a small, gay apartment, panelled in white, with double doors leading apparently into an inner room. Four candles on the centre table, burning rather low in their sockets, gave a fairly sufficient light.
Pamela, who slipped in, with some timidity, in the wake of the party, perceived their hostess’s face to be deathly pale, and hurried to her side.
Miss Falcon caught her hand with an ice-cold grip.
It must be confessed that the portly, elderly gentleman, who once for his charm and youthful grace had been known as Prince Florizel, looked discomfited to confoundment by the unexpected strangeness of the situation. His two companions stared at each other. The sobriety they all three needed seemed to be returning to them.