“Tchut! Some one coming.”
The “some one” proved to be the Prince with a train of gentlemen, nearly all of whom were Germans, and they passed through the anteroom on their way out.
“See that tall, light-haired fellow?” said Andrew, as soon as they were alone again.
“The German baron?”
“Yes, the one in uniform.”
“Yes. He’s the Baron Steinberg, a colonel in the Hanoverian Guards.”
“That’s the man. He came over on Saturday. Well, I hate him.”
“Why? Because he’s a German?”
“Pooh! I shouldn’t hate a man because he was a foreigner. I hate him because he’s an overbearing bully, who looks down on everything English. He quite insulted me yesterday, and I nearly drew upon him. But I didn’t.”
“What did he do?”