The further prosecution of the search was left to Colonel Quinnox and his men. Loraine, shuddering, but resolute, had witnessed the ransacking of the hut, had urged the arrest of the hag, and had come away disheartened but satisfied that the woman had told them the truth. Quinnox's theory was accepted by all. He believed that King had fallen into the hands of brigands and that a heavy ransom would be demanded for his release.
In a warm-tinted room at the Castle, later on in the evening, the Prince, in pajamas, was discoursing bravely on the idiosyncrasies of Fate. His only auditor was the mournful Loraine, who sat beside the royal bed in which he wriggled vaguely. The attendants were far down the room.
"Never mind, Aunt Loraine, you can't help it. I'm just as sorry as you are. Say, are you in love with him?"
"In love with whom?"
"Mr. King."
"Of course not, silly. What an absurd question. I do not know him at all."
"That's all right, Aunt Loraine. I believe in love at first sight. He is a—"
"Bobby! Don't be foolish. How could I be in love with him?"
"Well, you can't help it sometimes. Even princes fall in love without knowing it."
"I suppose so," dreamily.