“A man,” he said, “who has more than once nearly ruined your country. His life has been a splendid failure. He would have given India to the Russians, but they mistrusted him and trifled away their chance. Once since then he nearly sold this country to Germany; it was a trifle only which intervened. He has been all his life devoted to one cause.”
“And that?” Brott asked.
“The restoration of the monarchy to France. He, as you of course know, is the Duc de Souspennier, the sole living member in the direct line of one of the most ancient and historical houses in England. My friend,” he added, turning to Mr. Sabin, “you have stolen a march upon us. We had not even an opportunity of making our adieux to the ladies.”
“I imagine,” Mr. Sabin answered, “that the cause of quarrel may rest with them. You were nowhere in sight when they came out.”
“These fascinating politics,” the Prince remarked. “We all want to talk politics to Mr. Brott just now.”
“I will wish you good-night, gentlemen,” Mr. Sabin said, and passed into the hotel.
The Prince touched Brott on the arm.
“Will you come round to the club, and take a hand at bridge?” he said.
Brott laughed shortly.
“I imagine,” he said, “that I should be an embarrassing guest to you just now at, say the Mallborough, or even at the St. James. I believe the aristocracy are looking forward to the possibility of my coming into power with something like terror.”