If only he could put the theatre behind him, as he had put the rest, and make a stepping-stone of his dead actor self! But that was impossible, or at least the question would have to be fought out between himself and fortune after he had left Drane's Court.

In the meanwhile he glowed with the ambition to leave it in his newly acquired splendour, drums beating, banners flying, the young prince returning to his romantic and mysterious solitude.
The time was approaching when he should get up.

He sent for his luggage.

The battered trunk and portmanteau plastered with the labels of queer provincial towns did not betray great wealth.

Nor did the contents, taken out by the man-servant and arranged in drawers by the nurse.