"To what address?"
"Ah! Why, of course, I don't know his address—only that he is at St. Fillans. I had a note yesterday."
Travelling by way of Perth and Gleneagles, I next morning found myself strolling along the picturesque village at the end of the beautiful loch, which presented a truly delightful picture in the autumn sunlight. At the hotel nothing was known of Mr. Lehnhardt, and though I devoted the whole morning to making inquiries I could find no trace of His Highness. The latter would certainly not betray himself as a German, for, speaking English so well, he might very easily adopt an English name. I ate my lunch at the hotel which faces the loch, with Ben Voirlich rising high beyond, and afterwards resumed my wanderings. In many quarters I described my "friend" of whom I was in search, but nobody seemed to have seen him. The precious hours were flying, and I knew that the Emperor at Corfu was impatiently awaiting a reply.
I hired a car and drove seven miles to the farther end of the loch, to the village of Lochearnhead. There I made inquiry at the hotel and elsewhere, afterwards going on to Balquidder with similar result. It was past six o'clock when I returned to St. Fillans with the feeling that His Highness had deceived even his friend "Mickie," and that I had had my long journey and quest for nothing. Not a soul seemed to have seen anybody answering to "Willie's" description. I snatched another hasty meal at the hotel, and then, in the dusk, set off in the opposite direction along the pretty road which led to Comrie. The light was fast fading, but I knew that there would be a full moon, and the night was perfect.
I had walked about three miles, and had probably lost my way, for I was off the main road, when, on my left, saw the lighted windows of a comfortable-looking cottage standing back from the road behind a well-kept flower garden. There were woods on each side of the road, and I concluded that it was a keeper's house. As I passed I heard voices, and saw two figures standing at the garden gate—a man and a woman—chatting confidentially.
In the next second I recognized the man's voice as that of the Crown-Prince, and as quickly I stepped upon the grass so that they might not be attracted by my footsteps. Concealed by the shadow of the hedge on the opposite side of the road, I stealthily approached until I could distinguish, by the light from the open door of the cottage, that the woman was a stout, elderly person, probably the keeper's wife.
Both surprised and interested, I stood there watching. It seemed as though they were awaiting someone, for after a few moments, they both retired inside the cottage.
Presently, however, "Willie" emerged alone. He had on his hat and carried a stick, and as he swung through the gate and went forward he whistled softly to himself the air of a gay waltz of which he was particularly fond.
Within myself I chuckled at being thus able to watch his mysterious movements, for he seemed entirely preoccupied and quite unconscious of being followed, though I fear my footsteps fell heavily at times.
Suddenly, while passing along a part of the road overshadowed by woods on either side, he halted in the darkness. I heard him speak, and I also heard the welcome he received in a girl's voice. It was as I had surmised, and I drew a long breath.