For an instant it seemed to Prince Blank that a draught had entered
into the carriage. As, however, the sensation immediately passed
away, he did not trouble to wake up. Then the Prince dreamed that
somebody was in the carriage with him--was sitting opposite to him.
This being an annoying sort of dream, the Prince opened his eyes
for the purpose of dispelling it. There was somebody sitting
opposite to him--a very grimy little person, wiping blood off its
face and hands with a dingy handkerchief. Had the Prince been a
man capable of surprise, he would have been surprised.

"It's all right," assured him Tommy. "I ain't here to do any harm.
I ain't an Anarchist."

The Prince, by a muscular effort, retired some four or five inches
and commenced to rebutton his waistcoat.

"How did you get here?" asked the Prince.

"'Twas a bigger job than I'd reckoned on," admitted Tommy, seeking
a dry inch in the smeared handkerchief, and finding none. "But
that don't matter," added Tommy cheerfully, "now I'm here."

"If you do not wish me to hand you over to the police at
Southampton, you had better answer my questions," remarked the
Prince drily.

Tommy was not afraid of princes, but in the lexicon of her harassed
youth "Police" had always been a word of dread.