Oh," she cried to the prince, "can it be possible that you know him--that you know anything of my father ?" To St.George's amazement the face of the prince softened and glowed as if with peculiar delight, and he looked at St.George with admiration.
"Is it possible," he murmured, half to himself, "that your race has already developed intuition?
Are you indeed so near to the Unknown ?" He took quick steps away and back, and turned again to St.George, a strange joy dawning in his face.
"If there be some who are ready to know!" he said.

"Ah," he recalled himself penitently to Miss Holland, "your father--Otho Holland, I have seen him many times." "_Seen Otho_!" shrilled Mrs.Hastings, as pink and trembling and expressionless as a disturbed mold of jelly.

"Oh, poor, dear Otho! Did he live where there are people like your frightful servant?
Olivia, think! Maybe he is lying at the bottom of a gorge, all wounded and bloody, with a dagger in his back! Oh, my poor, dear Otho, who used to wheel me about!" Mrs.Hastings collapsed softly on the divan, her glasses fallen in her lap, her side-combs slipping silently to the rug.

Olivia had risen and was standing before Prince Tabnit.
"Tell me," she said trembling, "when have you seen him?
Is he well ?" Prince Tabnit swept the faces of the others and his eyes returned to Miss Holland and dropped to the floor.
"The last time that I saw him, Miss Holland," he answered, "was three months ago.

He was then alive and well." Something in his tone chilled St.George and sent a sudden thrill of fear to his heart.
"He was then alive and well ?" St.George repeated slowly.