"Well," said the Prince, "it's like this. If I ever caught you talking to a reporter, I'd lead you away by the ear."
"Really," Pat smiled dryly, as the color mounted her cheeks. "If any one but you, Prince Matani, had made such a threat, I should refuse to have anything more to do with him. As it is—oh, why be so fussed over something that hasn't happened, and may never occur?"
I wondered why the Prince should make such a silly and indiscreet remark. I could see that this little flash of petty jealousy and cruelty that lay hidden under his formal and polite exterior had annoyed Henry, although his voice was very kind as he continued to exchange pleasantries with the princeling. In fact, Henry conversed on every topic save that nearest his heart. It was only with the entry of dessert and the departure of Orkins that he came back to realities.
"Now, listen, everyone," he said. "Olinski and I have kept something to ourselves as long as possible, and now, assuming that some ungrateful, treacherous culprit has betrayed our secret to the Daily Recorder, we have decided to announce our discovery privately tonight."
"I see," the Prince commented, with a disdainful edge to his voice; "you are going to tell us something important, and we are supposed to know nothing until, of course, this McGinity, the reporter, gets the story, and his paper is adorned with your portraits."
Henry fixed a cold and disparaging gaze on the Prince for a moment, and then continued, with an even voice. "The servants are to know nothing, and no one present here must breathe a word of it." He paused a moment. "No one has anything to say? Very well. Instead of having coffee served in the library, we shall dispense with that formality and proceed at once to the observatory."
It was not long before we were gathered in the dome-ceilinged room in one of the peaked towers, where Henry carried on his astronomical observations. I was in an exultant mood, not because we were to be let in on a great secret, but rather on account of Pat. My heart sang with glee, and I suppressed a desire to whistle and whoop; and I thanked my stars that McGinity was up to his favorite tricks again. Unwittingly, by his telephone call, I felt sure he had forestalled the announcement of Pat's engagement to the Prince.
Henry constituted himself both host and lecturer. Pat and the Prince seemed quite happy together again, their little tilt at the dinner table apparently forgotten. But the evening had not progressed very far before I was again struck by the curious mixture of impudence and rashness in the Prince. I wondered if all men of his social caste possessed this overbearing consciousness of superiority.
After we were comfortably grouped about the room, Henry touched a button in the wall, and a section of the dome-shaped glass roof slid back. Simultaneously, the electrically propelled telescope moved majestically into place. A click of an electric switch and the room was partially darkened. We gazed upward into a bright field of twinkling planets, stretching above us like a dark blue velvet canopy, studded with gilt paper stars.
At Henry's invitation, Pat and the Prince viewed the ruddy-hued planet Mars through the telescope. As they enjoyed the close-up of this most famous of faraway planets, he grew discoursive.