The iron prince had disappeared. It was Herr Freudenberg, maker of toys, suave, genial, fascinating, who bowed before them.
"Why so surprised, Sir Julien?" he asked. "You forget that this is my wife's house. The little difficulties which have existed between us have to-day, I am happy to say, been removed. I have restored her son to Madame la Princesse. We are reunited. Henceforth my wishes are the wishes also of madame. You will present me? It is Lady Anne Clonarty, I believe?"
They were both bewildered. For the moment Falkenberg was supreme. He bowed low upon the hesitating words of introduction.
"Dear Lady Anne," he murmured, "do not be prejudiced against me. Sir Julien believes that I am his enemy. I am not. I am his sincere and heartfelt admirer."
Lady Anne's eyebrows were slowly raised.
"You have surely," she remarked, "a strange manner of showing such sentiments!"
Falkenberg smiled whimsically. He had the expression of a penitent boy who has misbehaved.
"It is at least consistent," he pleaded. "I admire Sir Julien's talents to such an extent that I am perhaps a trifle too anxious that he should not use them against my country."
"You haven't forced your way in here to bandy phrases," Julien asserted a little harshly. "What is it that you want?"
"You!" Falkenberg answered softly. "You, my friend! Madame la Princesse—my wife, whom you have known as Madame Christophor—finds it impossible, against my wishes, to offer you any longer the shelter of her roof. I am here to escort you, if you will, to your new quarters—to follow you, if I cannot reconcile you to my company."