"Isobel's features," he remarked, "but not her voice. You see, we are on the right track. We must contrive to keep out of that young lady's way."

To keep out of the way of the Princess Adelaide was easy enough, presuming that she kept her word and remained in her cabin. I watched her enter it and close the door. Afterwards I wrapped myself in an ulster of Feurgeres' and went out on deck. It was a fine night, but windy, and a little dark. I lit a pipe and leaned over the side. I had scarcely been there two minutes when I heard a light footstep coming along the deck and pause a few feet away. A girl's voice addressed me.

"Can you tell me what that light is?"

I knew who it was at once. It was the most hideous ill-fortune. I answered gruffly, and without turning my head.

"Folkestone Harbour!"

I thought that after that she must surely go away. But she did nothing of the sort. She came and leaned over the rail by my side.

"You are Mr. Arnold Greatson, are you not?"

My heart sank, and I could have cursed my folly for leaving my cabin.

However, since I was discovered there was nothing to do but to make the best of it.

"Yes, I am Arnold Greatson," I admitted.

"I wonder if you know who I am?" she asked.

"You are the Princess Adelaide of----"

She held up her hand.

"Stop, please! I see that you know. For some mysterious reason I am travelling almost alone, and under another name which I do not like at all. You are very fond of my cousin, Isobel, are you not, Mr. Greatson?"

I tried to see her face, but it was half turned away from me. Her voice, however, reminded me a little of Isobel's.

"Yes," I admitted slowly. "You see, she was under our care for some time, and we all grew very fond of her."

"But you--you especially, I mean," she went on. "Do not be afraid of me, Mr. Greatson. I know that my mother is very angry with you, and has tried to take Isobel away, but if I were she I would not come. I think that she must be very much happier as she is."

"I--I am too old," I said slowly, "to dare to be fond of anyone--in that way."

"How foolish!" she murmured. "Do you know, Mr. Greatson, that I am only eighteen, and that I am betrothed to the King of Saxonia. He is over forty, very short, and he has horrid turned-up black moustaches. He is willing to marry me because I am to have a great fortune, and my mother is willing for me to marry him because I shall be a Queen. But that is not happiness, is it?"

"I am afraid not," I answered.

"Mr. Greatson," she continued, "I feel that I can talk to you like this because I have read your books. I like the heroes so much, and of course I like the stories too. I think that Isobel is very wise not to want to come back to Waldenburg. I wish that I were free as she is, and had not to do things because I am a Princess. And I am sure that she is very fond of you."

"Princess----" I began.

She stopped me.

"If you knew how I hated that word!" she murmured. "I may never see you again, you know, after this evening, so it really does not matter--but would you mind calling me Adelaide?"

"Adelaide, then," I said, "may I ask you a question?"

"As many as you like."

"Do you know where Isobel is now?"

Her surprise was obviously genuine.

"Why, of course not! Is she not at your house in London?"

I shook my head.

"She is a few hours in front of us on her way to Paris," I said, "with your mother and the Baron von Leibingen and the rest of your people. She is travelling in your clothes and in your name. That is why you were left to follow as quietly as possible."

She laid her hand upon my arm. Her eyes were full of tears, and her voice shook.

"Oh, I am so sorry," she cried softly, "so very sorry. Why cannot my mother leave her alone with you? I am sure she would be happier."

"I think so too," I answered. "That is why I am going to try and fetch her back."

She looked at me very anxiously.

"Mr. Greatson," she said, "you do not know my mother. If she makes up her mind to anything she is terribly hard to change. I do hope that you succeed, though. Why ever did Isobel leave you?"

"She received a forged letter, written in somebody else's name," I said.

"How your mother has induced her to stay since, though, I do not know.

She looked very ill at Charing Cross, and she had to be helped into the train."

The Princess Adelaide went very white.

"It was she I heard this morning--cry out," she murmured. "They told me it was one of the servants who had had an accident. Mr. Greatson, this is terrible!"

She turned her head away, and I could see that she was crying.

"You must not distress yourself," I said kindly. "I daresay that it will all come right. You will see Isobel, I think, in Paris. If you do, will you give her a message?"

"Of course, I will," she answered.

"Tell her that we are close at hand, and that we have powerful friends,"

I whispered. "We shall get to see her somehow or other, and if she chooses to return she shall!"

"Yes. Anything else?"

"I think not," I answered.

"Do you not want to send her your love?" she asked, with a faint smile.

"Of course," I said slowly.

She leaned a little over towards me.