The prince reflected for a moment, his eyes fixed upon the hundred-branched candlestick. Then:
"Mr. St. George's disappearance," he said, "has prevented a still more unpleasant catastrophe."
"Catastrophe!" repeated Mrs. Hastings, quite without tucking in her voice at the corners, "I have thought of no other word since I got to be royalty."
"A world experience, a world experience, dear Madame," contributed Mr. Frothingham, his hands laid trimly along his blue velvet lap.
"But that doesn't make it any easier to bear, no matter what anybody says," retorted the lady.
"Inasmuch," pursued Prince Tabnit with infinite regret, "as these Americans have, as you say, assisted in the search for your father, the king, they have most unfortunately violated that ancient law which provides that no State or satrapy shall receive aid, whether of blood or of bond, from an alien. The Royal House alone is exempt."
"And the penalty," demanded Olivia fearfully. "Is there a penalty? What is that, Prince Tabnit?"
The voice of the prince was never more mellow.
"Do not be alarmed, I beg," he hastened his reassurance. "Upon the return of Mr. St. George, he and his friend will simply be set adrift in a rudderless airship, an offering to the great idea of space."
Mrs. Hastings swayed toward the prince in her chair of verd antique, and her voice seemed to become brittle in the air.