"My fault, I know," agreed the Prince. "There is not the least
doubt as to which sex you belong to. Nevertheless, I want you to
promise me. Come," urged the Prince, "I have done a good deal for
you--more than you know."

"All right," consented Tommy a little sulkily. Tommy hated making
promises, because she always kept them. "I promise."

"There is your Interview." The first Southampton platform lamp
shone in upon the Prince and Tommy as they stood facing one
another. The Prince, who had acquired the reputation, not
altogether unjustly, of an ill-tempered and savage old gentleman,
did a strange thing: taking the little, blood-smeared face between
his paws, he kissed it. Tommy always remembered the smoky flavour
of the bristly grey moustache.

"One thing more," said the Prince sternly--"not a word of all this.
Don't open your mouth to speak of it till you are back in Gough
Square."

"Do you take me for a mug?" answered Tommy.

They behaved very oddly to Tommy after the Prince had disappeared.
Everybody took a deal of trouble for her, but none of them seemed
to know why they were doing it. They looked at her and went away,
and came again and looked at her. And the more they thought about
it, the more puzzled they became. Some of them asked her
questions, but what Tommy really didn't know, added to what she
didn't mean to tell, was so prodigious that Curiosity itself paled