“Only to satisfy yourself. I assure you he is unhurt, princess, and would come himself were he able to walk.”
Wanda rose, and turned to take her cloak from the back of her chair.
“Will you take us to him, monsieur?” she said.
And the three quitted the grand-stand together in a rather formal silence. The next race was about to start, and the lawn, with its forlorn, autumnal flower-beds, was less crowded now as they walked along it towards the paddock.
“It was very good of you to come and tell us,” said Martin, in English, “with the whole populace looking on. It will do you no good, you know, to do a kindness to people under a cloud. I suppose it was true what you said about the prince being unhurt?”
“Almost,” answered Cartoner. “He is rather badly shaken. I think you will find it necessary to go home, but there is no need for anxiety.”
“Oh no!” exclaimed Martin. “He is a tough old fellow. You cannot come in here, you know, Wanda. It is against the Jockey Club laws, even in case of accidents.”
He stood at the gate of the club enclosure as he spoke.
“Wait here,” he said, “with Cartoner, and I will be back in a few minutes.”
So Cartoner and Wanda were left in the now deserted paddock, while the distant roar of voices announced that the start for the next race had been successfully accomplished.