The shaggy brows contracted.

"Who put you up to this absurdity? Who was it? Tell me at once."

"Nobody."

"Don't lie to me. His name?"

The terrible, small eyes flashed fire. But Tommy also had a pair
of eyes. Before their blaze of indignation the great man
positively quailed. This type of opponent was new to him.

"I'm not lying."

"I beg your pardon," said the Prince.

And at this point it occurred to the Prince, who being really a
great man, had naturally a sense of humour, that a conference
conducted on these lines between the leading statesman of an Empire
and an impertinent hussy of, say, twelve years old at the outside,
might end by becoming ridiculous. So the Prince took up his chair
and put it down again beside Tommy's, and employing skilfully his
undoubted diplomatic gifts, drew from her bit by bit the whole
story.

"I'm inclined, Miss Jane," said the Great Man, the story ended, "to
agree with our friend Mr. Hope. I should say your metier was
journalism."

"And you'll let me interview you?" asked Tommy, showing her white