"Cats may look at kings, and I suppose kings embrace queens, don't they? You needn't be so mad. You come from a democratic country, and Grandma Carleton's father was a grocer."
"He was a super-grocer. And, anyhow, Americans are different."
"Some of them fly high nowadays, eh, Mr. Air-pirate?"
Dick laughed. "You haven't told me yet what happened next at the beggars' feast, and how you found out who she was."
"Nothing happened to any one except me. They went on feasting and gave her some more chestnuts. I don't know what she'd given them! But she'd probably rubbed the lucky hump and paid for it. I was dying to go up and speak to my pals, and perhaps be introduced to the girl, but I hadn't got quite cheek enough, and they seemed to be having such a good time, it was a shame to interrupt. The elf was talking, with explosive sort of gestures in between mouthfuls, evidently telling something very interesting. And you know, I always pretend to myself in a kind of fairy story that he's really a person of immense, mysterious influence, a weird power behind the throne, starting or stopping revolutions. Of course it's nonsense—all founded on my seeing him with one of the new revolutionary newspapers in his hand—the ones they allow nowadays to be sold in the principality, against the Prince, and the Casino, and everything. But if I were to write a sensational story of Monte Carlo, that little red-eyed dwarf at the bridge should be the hero. And just as I was thinking about all that, and tying my second shoe, along came a taxi with poor Captain Hannaford in it. He'd been into Italy to see Madame Berenger, the actress, at her villa, which he would like to buy, and was coming back to lunch; so he made the chauffeur pull up while he asked if he could drive me home? I said yes, because I saw him lift his hat to that girl, and I hoped he could tell me something about her."
"What did he tell you?"
"Not so very much. He didn't seem to want to talk about her, I thought. That didn't surprise me, because he has an idea that women feel disgust for him and can't bear to look at him if they can help it—all but me, for I've convinced him that I'm really his friend. He only said that her name was Miss Grant, and that she was very lucky at the Casino. And in about three minutes we were at the door of this house."
"Well, I'm mighty glad you're interested in her, and that you're willing to call."
"Willing? I'm charmed. I'll go to-morrow."
"You—you couldn't go to-day, I suppose?"