And then I turned upon my heel and passed out of the room, leaving him biting his nether lip in silence at my open defiance.
Chapter Twelve.
Watchers in the Night.
After Her Highness and Miss West had dined with me at the “Métropole” at Brighton on the following evening, the trusted old companion complained of headache and drove home, leaving us alone together.
Therefore we strolled forth into the moonlit night and, crossing the road, walked out along the pier. There were many persons in the hall of the hotel, but though a good many heads were turned to see “Miss Gottorp” pass in her pretty décolleté gown of black, trimmed with narrow silver, over which was a black satin evening cloak, probably not one noticed the undersized, insignificant, but rather well-dressed man who rose from one of the easy chairs where he had been smoking to follow us out.
Who, indeed, of that crowd would have guessed that the pretty girl by whose side I walked was an Imperial Princess, or that the man who went out so aimlessly was Oleg Lobko, the trusty agent of the Russian Criminal Police charged by the Emperor with her personal protection?
With the man following at a respectable distance, we strolled side by side upon the pier, looking back upon the fairy-like scene, the long lines of light along King’s Road, and the calm sea shimmering beneath the clear moon. There were many people enjoying the cool, refreshing breezes, as there always are upon an autumn night.
A comedy was in progress in the theatre at the pierhead, and it being the entr’acte, many were promenading—mostly visitors taking their late vacation by the sea.