Deulin?--has spoken to us of you. No doubt we have dozens of other
friends in common. We shall find them out in time. I am very glad to
meet you. You say you know my name--yes, I am Martin Bukaty. Odd that
you should have recognized me from my likeness to Wanda. I am very glad
you think I am like her. Dear old Wanda! She is a better sort than I am,
you know."

And he finished with a frank and hearty laugh--not that there was
anything to laugh at, but merely because he was young, and looked at
life from a cheerful standpoint.

Cartoner sipped his coffee, and looked reflectively at his companion
over the cup. "Cartoner," Paul Deulin had once said to a common friend,
"weighs you, and naturally finds you wanting." It seemed that he was
weighing Prince Martin Bukaty now.

"I saw your father also," he said, at length. "He was kind enough to ask
me to call, which I did."

"That was kind of you. Of course we know no one in London--no one, I
mean, who speaks anything except English. That is a thing which is never
quite understood on the Continent--that if you go to London you must
speak English. If you cannot, you had better hang yourself and be done
with it, for you are practically in solitary confinement. My father does
not easily make friends--you must have been very civil to him."

"According to my lights, I was," admitted Cartoner.

Martin laughed again. It is a gay heart that can be amused at three in
the morning.