The prince glanced at him curiously beneath his bushy eyebrows. What was
there to need reflection in such a small question?

"At five o'clock," he said. "We can give you a cup of the poisonous tea
you drink in this country."

And he went away laughing heartily at the small witticism. People whose
lives are anything but a joke are usually content with the smallest
jests.

It was scarcely five o'clock the next day when Cartoner was conducted by
a page-boy to the Bukatys' rooms in the quiet old hotel in Kensington.
The Princess Wanda was alone. She was dressed in black. There is in some
Varsovian families a heritage of mourning to be worn until Poland is
reinstated. She was slightly but strongly made. Like her father and her
brother, there was a suggestion of endurance in her being, such as is
often found in slightly made persons.

"I came as early as I could," said Cartoner, and, as he spoke, the clock
struck.

The princess smiled as she shook hands, and then perceived that she had
not been intended to show amusement. Cartoner had merely made a rather
naïve statement in his low monotone. She thought him a little odd, and
glanced at him again. She changed color slightly as she turned towards a
chair. He was quite grave and honest.

"That is kind of you," she said, speaking English without the least
suspicion of accent; for she had had an English governess all her life.
"My father will take it to mean that you wanted to come, and are not