A purpose had swiftly formed in Hero’s mind.
“Whereabouts is the stall?” she inquired.
“Over here.”
Turning his back on Mr. St. Maur with unwonted rudeness, he conducted Hero to a stall presided over by a pretty, overdressed little woman, who had been persuaded by Mr. Grimes in the confessional that she would thus atone for certain errors to which pretty, overdressed little women are prone. Prince Herbert’s autograph had been entrusted to her for sale, and by good luck it had not been disposed of when the two came up.
“What is the price of this letter?” Miss Vanbrugh asked quickly.
“One guinea,” the stallkeeper simpered. “It is from His Royal Highness the Duke of Gloucester to Lord Alistair Stuart,” she added in ignorance of who stood before her.
“Let me buy it, and give it to you!” cried Alistair, guessing Hero’s design.
She took up the letter. It was a short schoolboy’s note, and contained a misspelt word.
“Dear Alistair:
“I cannot meet you to-morrow, as the Crown Prince of Austria is coming, but I will go out fishing on Saturday if you like. Come over here at ten o’clock—mind, be punctual.