“Good afternoon,” he said, greeting me rather stiffly. “Her Highness is at present out driving. Is there anything I can do? I am her secretary.”
“Her Highness?” I echoed, with a smile. “There must be some mistake. I have called to see Miss Mabel Anson.”
He regarded me with some surprise.
“Are you, then, unaware that Anson is the name adopted by Her Highness to preserve her incognita?” he asked, glancing at me in quick suspicion. “Are you not aware of her real rank and station?”
“No!” I cried, in blank amazement. “This is indeed a revelation to me! I have known Miss Anson intimately during the past six years. What is her true rank?”
“The lady whom you know as Miss Anson is Her Imperial Highness the Archduchess Marie Elizabeth Mabel, third daughter of His Majesty the Emperor Francis Joseph of Austria.”
“Mabel! The daughter of an Emperor?” I gasped involuntarily. “Impossible!”
He shrugged his shoulders. He was a foreigner, although he spoke English well—an Austrian most probably.
“You are surprised,” he laughed. “Many people have also been surprised, as the Archduchess, living in England nearly her whole life, has frequently been taken for an Englishwoman.”
“I can’t believe it!” I cried. “Surely there must be some mistake!”