And with that the Prince turned away and strolled leisurely in the direction of Montmarte. He hailed the first passing cab, gave an address, and a quarter of an hour afterward, having discharged the driver some distance lower, he was knocking at Mr. Vandeleur's garden-gate.
It was opened with singular precautions by the Dictator in person.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"You must pardon me this late visit, Mr. Vandeleur," replied the Prince.
"Your Highness is always welcome," returned Mr. Vandeleur, stepping back.
The Prince profited by the open space, and without waiting for his host walked right into the house and opened the door of the salon. Two people were seated there; one was Miss Vandeleur, who bore the marks of weeping about her eyes, and was still shaken from time to time by a sob; in the other the Prince recognized the young man who had consulted him on literary matters about a month before, in a club smoking-room.
"Good-evening, Miss Vandeleur," said Florizel; "you look fatigued. Mr. Rolles, I believe? I hope you have profited by the study of Gaboriau, Mr. Rolles."
But the young clergyman's temper was too much embittered for speech; and he contented himself with bowing stiffly, and continued to gnaw his lip.
"To what good wind," said Mr. Vandeleur, following his guest, "am I to attribute the honor of your Highness's presence?"
"I am come on business," returned the Prince; "on business with you; as soon as that is settled I shall request Mr. Rolles to accompany me for a walk. Mr. Rolles," he added, with severity, "let me remind you that I have not yet sat down."