"Oh, mon Dieu!" exclaimed the Prince, preparing for instant flight. "You are entirely right! Charles, my hotel is in the Rue de Brabant! I charge you, don't forget! I will go and do my duty, and dance with all the ugly old women. Would you like to be presented to a fat Frau? No? Well, then, au revoir!"
"Stay a moment!" said Colonel Audley suddenly. "Do that for me, sir, will you?"
The Prince paused in the doorway, looking back with laugh in his eyes. "What, present you to a fat Frau?"
"No, to the Lady Barbara Childe."
The Prince's brow shot up; a low whistle broke from Lord March; Colonel Fremantle said solicitously: "My door fellow, you are not yourself. Take my advice and go quietly home to bed."
Audley reddened, but only said: "I am perfectly serious. I have been trying for the past hour to get an introduction, but there's no coming near her for the crowd round her. You could present me, sir, if you would."
"Steal into the supper-room and change the tickets on the tables," suggested March flippantly.
"Don't do it, sir!" recommended Fremantle.
The Prince laughed. "But Charles, this is the road to ruin! Really, you wish it?"
"Most earnestly, sir."