“I am much better,” said the princess. “I’m getting quite strong, and I can run ever so fast.”
She stretched out a tanning leg and surveyed it with an air of satisfaction.
“But it’s nonsense!” said Miss Lambart.
“But what can you do?” said the Terror gently.
“I’ll chance the lèse-majesté!” cried Miss Lambart; and she sprang swiftly forward.
The princess bolted into the cave and up it. Miss Lambart followed swiftly. The cave ended in a dim passage, ten feet down, the passage forked into three dimmer passages. Miss Lambart stopped short and tried to hear from which of them came the sound of the footfalls of the retiring princess. It came from none of the three; the floor of the eaves was covered with sound-deadening sand. Miss Lambart walked back to the entrance of the cave.
“She has escaped,” she said in a tone of resignation.
“Well, I really don’t see any reason for you to put yourself about for the sake of that disagreeable crew at the Grange. You have done more than you were called on to do in finding her. You can leave the catching of her to them. There’s nothing to worry about: it’s quite clear that this camping-out is doing her a world of good,” said Sir Maurice in a comforting tone.
“Yes; there is that,” said Miss Lambart.
“Let me introduce my nephew. Hyacinth Dangerfield—better, much better, known as the Terror—to you,” Said Sir Maurice.