“Lots of them,” said the singer, smiling. “The room is full of them. And there’s a Russian Prince over at that table,” she added, indicating a slender young man with a high pompadour and such brilliant black eyes that they gleamed like coals of fire as he glanced about.
All the party, even Miss Helen Campbell, craned their necks to see the Russian prince.
“Girls,” exclaimed Mary suddenly, startling them by her unusual vehemence, “look, girls, the man with the Prince! Would you ever have known him in the world in those clothes?”
Sitting at the table with the Russian was a man strangely familiar and yet unfamiliar to Miss Campbell and the Motor Maids. He was very old, quite small and dressed in the most correct evening clothes. He had a large shaggy head set on rather a small, delicate body.
“Mr. Kalisch!” they exclaimed, loud enough for Telemac himself to hear them across the room. He turned his head in their direction, recognized them instantly and hurried over to their table.
“It is good to see you again,” he exclaimed cordially, shaking hands with each one, and giving Maria a low foreign bow. “I have been lonely for my young friends since I reached London. But I am always sorry when a journey is over. It’s like reaching the end of a good book.”
“Our journey has just commenced to be over,” began Billie. “You didn’t know that we were lost, Nancy and I, and spent the night at Miss Felicia Rivers’ in the slums?”
Telemac’s face suddenly turned perfectly crimson. Then the color faded as quickly as it had come. It was only for the mere fraction of an instant, but to Billie he appeared like a man who had received a shock, when he said slowly:
“You spent the night where?”
“At Miss Felicia Rivers’ lodging house,” repeated Billie.