Thorndyke went down into his chambers to make his toilet and was ready to leave when there was a soft rap on his door. He opened it, and to his surprise saw Bernardino modestly draw herself back into the shadow of the hall.
“Pardon me, but I must speak to you,” she stammered in confusion.
“What is it?” he asked, going out to her.
“I want to advise you to avoid my father to-day. He is greatly disappointed with the accident of yesterday, and he is never courteous to strangers when he is displeased. He was particularly anxious to have you entertained by the fete.”
“Thank you; I shall keep out of his way,” promised the Englishman. “Where had I better stay—here in my rooms?”
“No, he might send for you. If you would care to see Winter Park, I can go with you as your guide.”
“I should be delighted; nothing could please me more.”
“But,” (as a servant passed in the room with a tray) “that is your breakfast. Meet me at the fountain at the north entrance of the palace in half an hour.” And, drawing her veil over her face, she vanished in the darkness of the corridor.
After he had breakfasted and sent the man away, he hastened below to the place designated by the princess. She was waiting for him under the palm trees, and was so disguised that he would not have known her but for her low amused laugh as he was about to pass her.
“It would not do for any one to suspect me,” she explained; “my father would never forgive me for doing this.” She pointed to a flying-machine near by. “We must take the air; I have made all the arrangements. Winter Park is beyond the limits of the city.”