“You are a long way from home, your royal highness,” exclaimed Mrs. Brevoort, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “But I am pleased to see you again.”
“We have met before, then?” inquired the prince, a puzzled look on his face.
“No, but I have not forgotten your face. I saw you at the head of your troops in Rexopolis, two years ago. I did not then imagine that I should ever meet you in such a place as this.”
“The unhappy chance that brought me here has, I assure you, its compensation,” returned the prince, smilingly, as he turned and looked down into the troubled face of Kate Strong.
“Sit down here by me,” said the girl, to whom conflicting emotions had come as an antidote to physical pain. She had almost forgotten that her sprained ankle was aching stubbornly. “I want you to tell me what has happened to you since we last met. You owe me an apology, you know. But wait; I had almost forgotten. Are you really the crown prince? Then, of course, I have no right to ask for an explanation. The king can do no wrong, I believe.”
Prince Carlo seated himself by her side, while a sad smile crossed his pale face.
“How out of place the old ideas appear!” he exclaimed. “But, frankly, it has been a heavy cross to me, Miss Strong, to feel that you might wonder at my lack of courtesy. But I have been a helpless prisoner in the hands of yonder men.”
Kate looked at him wonderingly.
“Tell me, Prince Carlo,” she said, in a low voice, “tell me, what did they wish with you?”
Prince Carlo glanced searchingly around the room before replying. Mrs. Brevoort and Ned Strong were standing near the doorway, talking to the Rexanians who had appointed themselves a body-guard to their recent prisoner.