By this speech the widow was intensely flattered. Her companion saw it in her countenance.
He did not allow her time to make any remark, but added: “My secret is—well a rather curious one, perhaps—but the fact is that I have a dual personality. While being Prince Albert of Hesse-Holstein, I am also known as Dick Drummond, holder of two records on the Brooklands motor-track. In the motor-world I’m believed to be a young man of means, who devotes his time to motor-racing—a motor-maniac in fact.”
The widow stared at him in blank astonishment.
“Are you really the Mr Drummond of whose wonderful feat I read of only the other day in the papers?”
“I won the race at Brooklands the other day,” he said carelessly, “I won it with the car I have here now.”
“And nobody suspects that this Mr Drummond is a prince!” she exclaimed.
“Nobody. I could never afford to go racing in my own name. The Kaiser would not allow it, you know. I have to be so very careful.”
“I quite understand that,” remarked the widow. “But what an excellent motor-driver you must be! What a fine performance your record was! Why, there was half a column in the Morning Post about it!”
“It was not any more difficult, or more dangerous, than some of the long quick runs I’ve made on the Continent. From Rome up to Berlin, for instance, or from Warsaw to Ostend, I’m racing again at Brooklands next week.”
“And may I come and see you?” she asked. “Do let me. I will, of course, keep your secret, and not tell a soul.”