“So you keep them in a safe deposit?” he exclaimed; “and quite right, too. Diamonds are always a sore temptation to burglars.”
“I’m asking a few people to dinner next Wednesday, and am sending to the bank in York for some of my ornaments,” remarked the widow. “I hope they’ll be safe here. Since the attempt by thieves, I confess I’ve been awfully nervous.”
“Oh, they’ll be safe enough,” declared the audacious adventurer, taking a fresh Russian cigarette from his case.
“I hope so. I have invited a few people—the best in the county—to meet your Highness. I hope you won’t object.”
“Not at all,” he replied affably. “Only, as you know, I much prefer to remain incognito.”
“You’re one of the most modest men I’ve ever met,” she declared, in a soft voice, intended to be seductive.
“I find life as a commoner much more agreeable than as a prince,” he responded. “In incognito, I always enjoy freedom of speech and freedom of action, which, as a royalty, it is impossible to obtain.”
The widow’s mind was ever active. She was straining her utmost to fascinate her guest. The difference in their ages was really not so very great. Her secret hope was that she could induce him to make a declaration of love. Fancy her, plain Mrs Edmondson, ridiculed by the county and only tolerated by a certain section of it, suddenly becoming a princess!
Milnthorpe was a beautiful old place, but to her it was but a sepulchre. She hated it because, while in residence there, she was buried alive. She preferred Monte Carlo, Paris, or even Cairo.
“Then the dinner-party will be a very smart one?” he remarked for want of something better to say. “And my hostess herself will surely be the smartest of them all,” he added with a bow and an intent to flatter.