“But it was monsieur,” the man answered, with a low bow. “Dinner for two.”
“Monsieur?” she repeated. “What monsieur?”
“I am the culprit,” a familiar voice answered from the depths of an easy-chair, whose back was to her. “I was very hungry, and it occurred to me that under the circumstances you would probably not have dined either. I hope that you will like what I have ordered. The plovers’ eggs look delicious.”
She gave a little cry of joy. It was Mr. Sabin.
CHAPTER XLII
The Prince dined carefully, but with less than his usual appetite. Afterwards he lit a cigarette and strolled for a moment into the lounge. Celeste, who was waiting for him, glided at once to his side.
“Monsieur!” she whispered. “I have been here for one hour.”
He nodded.
“Well?”