“I’m doing so. Now I’ve won the race I shall put in fifteen thousand—perhaps twenty. They are seeing me to-morrow. As a matter of fact,” he added, lowering his tone, “I mean to hold controlling interest in the concern. It’s far too good a thing to miss.”
The fat widow, with her black bodice cut low, and the circle of diamonds sparkling upon her red neck, sipped her wine slowly, but said nothing.
His Highness did not refer to this matter again. He was a past-master of craft and cunning.
Later on, the Rev. Thomas Clayton was announced, and the trio spent quite a pleasant evening, which concluded by the lady inviting them both to Milnthorpe the following week.
At first the Prince again hesitated. The widow sat in breathless expectancy. At all hazards she must get his Highness to visit her. It would be known all over the county. She would pay a guinea each to the fashionable papers to announce the fact, for it would be worth so very much to her in the county.
“I fear, Mrs Edmondson, that I must go to Berlin next week,” replied the Prince. “I’m sure it’s very good of you, but the Emperor has summoned me regarding some affairs of my brother Karl.”
“Oh! why can’t you postpone your visit, and come and see me first?” she urged in her most persuasive style. “Mr Clayton, do urge the Prince to come to me,” she added.
“You can surely go to Germany a week later, Prince,” exclaimed the cleric. “Where’s the Kaiser just now?”
“At Kiel, yachting.”
“Then he may not be in Berlin next week?”