Such was the man who had once risked his life for hers, the man who had now returned her stolen jewels to her, and who was at that moment seated at her side escorting her to her hotel on terms of intimate friendship.
She thought deeply over his bitter words of regret that he was what he was. Could she assist him, she wondered. But how?
“Remain patient,” she urged, in a calm, kindly tone. “I shall never forget my great indebtedness to you, and I will do my utmost in order that you may yet realise your wish to lead an honest life. At this moment I am, like yourself, an outcast, wondering what the future may have in store for me. But be patient and hope, for it shall be my most strenuous endeavour to assist you to realise your commendable desire.”
“Ah! really your Highness is far too kind,” he answered, in a voice that seemed to her to falter in emotion. “I only hope that some way will open out to me. I would welcome any appointment, however menial, that took me out of my present shameful profession—that of a thief.”
“I really believe you,” she said. “I can quite understand that it is against the nature of a man of honour to find himself in your position.”
“I assure you, Princess, that I hate myself,” he declared in earnest confidence. “What greater humility can befall a man than to be compelled to admit that he is a thief—as I admitted to you this afternoon? I might have concealed the fact, it is true, and have returned the jewels anonymously; yet an explanation of the reason of my sudden flight from Treysa after all your kindness was surely due to you. And—well, I was forced to tell you the whole truth, and allow you to judge me as you will.”
“As I have already said, Mr Bourne, your profession does not concern me. Many a man of note and of high position and power in the Ministries of Europe commits far greater peculations than you do, yet is regarded as a great man, and holds the favour of his sovereign until he commits the unpardonable sin of being found out. No, a man is not always what his profession is.”
“I thank you for regarding me in such a lenient light, your Highness, and I only look forward with hope to the day when, by some turn of Fortune’s wheel, I gain the liberty to be honest,” he answered.
“Remember, Mr Bourne, that I am your friend; and I hope you are still mine in return,” she said, for the cab had now stopped at the corner of the Rue d’Amsterdam, as he had ordered it, for it was running unnecessary risk for him to drive with her up to the hotel.
“Thank you, Princess,” he said earnestly, raising his hat, his dark, serious eyes meeting hers. “Let us be mutual friends, and perhaps we can help each other. Who knows? When I lay in the hospital with my chest broken in I often used to wonder what you would say if you knew my real identity. You, an Imperial Princess, were sending flowers and fruit from the royal table to a criminal for whom half the police in Europe were in active search!”