"Will you tell us more, your Highness?
Will you tell us why the death of his daughter should be considered a service to the prince of a country which he had visited ?" "You are very wonderful," observed the prince, smiling meditatively at St.George, "and your penetration gives me good news--news that I had not hoped for, yet.

I can not tell you all that you ask, but I can tell you much.

Will you sit down ?" He turned and glanced at the curtain at the far end of the room.
Instantly the boy servant appeared, bearing a tray on which were placed, in dishes of delicate-coloured filigree, strange dainties not to be classified even by a cosmopolitan, with his Flemish and Finnish and all but Icelandic cafes in every block.
"Pray do me the honour," the prince besought, taking the dishes from the hands of the boy.

"It gives me pleasure, Miss Holland, to tell you that your father has no doubt had these very plates set before him." Upon a little table he deftly arranged the dishes with all the smiling ease of one to whom afternoon tea is the only business toward, and to whom an attempted murder is wholly alien.

He impressed St.George vaguely as one who seemed to have risen from the dead of the crudities of mere events and to be living in a rarer atmosphere.