He told her in a few words of his blind excursion outside and its astonishing sequel. "I may have done wrong by telling you this," he concluded, "but I could find neither your father nor my friend, Varden, and I realised that every moment was precious."
For a moment there was silence. The eloquent dark eyes of the princess, which had been fixed on his face during the recital, were now filled with a troubled appeal.
"I cannot find words to thank you, Mr Fenton," she said, clasping her hands together. "Your news is disquieting, although I have feared for the safety of the prince, my father, ever since war broke out. Anything is possible in Ironia now—even that they should want the death of a prince who has never had a thought beyond the welfare of his country! He is the most unselfish man that ever lived, I think, Mr Fenton. One who has not known him can have no conception of the way in which he has given himself to the service of Ironia."
Fenton listened to her in a conflict of emotion. The compassion that he felt for this beautiful butterfly, enmeshed in the net of royal rank and placed within a circle where constant danger and intrigue were part of the price of position, was overshadowed by a still deeper feeling. Fenton had progressed thus far along the steep upward grade called life without any more lasting love episodes than an occasional brief flirtation. He had always responded willingly enough to the appeal of a pretty face, but his first glimpse of the Princess Olga had stirred something within him that was deeper than admiration and more disturbing than any emotion he had ever experienced before. Her beauty left him in a condition where coherent speech was difficult and connected thought impossible.
This condition of mind was intensified by the position in which they were now placed. In the face of danger threatening, the fact of her position was lost. She was no longer a princess who might condescendingly stoop to a brief friendliness with a commoner from a strange country; she had become simply a girl, alarmed and distressed at the dangerous position of her father.
"I am so frightened!" she went on, averting her gaze to hide the look almost of terror that had come. "My father left the palace a few minutes ago. Could it be—can they carry out their purpose—before he can be warned of the danger?"
Fenton thought for a moment. "No," he answered confidently. "The prince must have left before I returned to the palace. In that case he got away before those precious rogues had any chance to carry out their plans. He must be reached at once and warned."
"But," the girl's voice came tensely, "I have no idea where he has gone. He has come and gone much of late, never telling anyone of his purpose or his movements. He may even return here before the night is over!"
"That wouldn't do," said Fenton, alarmed in turn. "I must find Varden. He'll be certain to know where the prince has gone."
He bowed and would at once have left her to renew his search for Varden had she not detained him with a gesture.