"By the way, Moore," said Wales, languidly, "did I not hear some mention made of your name in connection with a political position in Bermuda?"
"You are right, your Highness," replied Moore, reluctantly, "there was some such mention made."
The Prince looked thoughtful and drained his cup.
"Bermuda," said he, "is a long way from England, Mr. Moore."
A step sounded on the stairs at this moment, and Moore gladly rid himself of the embarrassment he felt by approaching the door to make certain it was no undesirable personage who was now approaching.
"Lord Brooking!" he cried. "What good luck brings you back?"
"I soon wearied of the theatricals and was out for a stroll when by chance I encountered Mr. Dyke on his way to Sir Percival's," explained the young nobleman entering. "It is needless to say, your Highness, I made haste to join you here."
"But," said Wales, "did the good citizens not stop you on your way?"
"For a moment or two, your Highness, but I convinced them of my entire harmlessness and was allowed to pass."
"Is Mr. Moore at home?" demanded a hoarse voice, strongly flavored with Scotch dialect, from the hall below.