"For yourself, certainly," she answered. "As for me, I have accepted no invitation to dine with you, nor do I propose to do so."

The Prince frowned.

"Be reasonable, Lucille," he pleaded. "I must talk with you. There are important plans to be made. I have a great deal to say to you. Sit down."

Lucille looked across at him with a curious smile upon her lips.

"You have a good deal to say to me?" she remarked. "Yes, I will believe that. But of the truth how much, I wonder?"

"By and bye," he said, "you will judge me differently. For hors d'oeuvres what do you say to oeufs de pluvier? Then--"

"Pardon me," she interrupted, "I am not interested in your dinner!"

"In our dinner," he ventured gently.

"I am not dining with you," she declared firmly. "If you insist upon remaining here I shall have something served in my room. You know quite well that we are certain to be recognised. One would imagine that this was a deliberate attempt on your part to compromise me."

"Lucille," he said, "do not be foolish! Why do you persist in treating me as though I were your persecutor?"

"Because you are," she said coolly.

"It is ridiculous," he declared. "You are in the most serious danger, and I have come only to save you. I can do it, and I will. But listen--not unless you change your demeanour towards me."

She laughed scornfully. She had risen to her feet now, and he was perforce compelled to follow her example.

"Is that a challenge?" she asked.

"You may take it as such if you will," he answered, with a note of sullenness in his tone. "You know very well that I have but to lift my finger and the gendarmes will be here. Yes, we will call it a challenge.

All my life I have wanted you. Now I think that my time has come. Even Souspennier has deserted you. You are alone, and let me tell you that danger is closer at your heels than you know of. I can save you, and I will. But I have a price, and it must be paid."

"If I refuse?" she asked.

"I send for the chief of the police."

She looked him up and down, a measured, merciless survey. He was a tall, big man, but he seemed to shrink into insignificance.

"You are a coward and a bully," she said slowly. "You know quite well that I am innocent of any knowledge even concerning Duson's death. But I would sooner meet my fate, whatever it might be, than suffer even the touch of your fingers upon my hand. Your presence is hateful to me. Send for your chief of the police. String your lies together as you will. I am satisfied."

She left him and swept from the room, a spot of colour burning in her cheeks, her eyes lit with fire. The pride of her race had a.s.serted itself. She felt no longer any fear. She only desired to sever herself at once and completely from all a.s.sociation with this man. In the hall she sent for her maid.

"Fetch my cloak and jewel case, Celeste," she ordered. "I am going across to the Bristol. You can return for the other luggage."

"But, madam--"

"Do as I say at once," Lucille ordered.

The girl hesitated and then obeyed. Lucille found herself suddenly addressed in a quiet tone by a man who had been sitting in an easy-chair, half hidden by a palm tree.

"Will you favour me, madam, with a moment's conversation?"

Lucille turned round. She recognised at once the man with whom she had conversed upon the steamer. In the quietest form of evening dress, there was something noticeable in the man's very insignificance. He seemed a little out of his element. Lucille had a sudden inspiration, The man was a detective.

"What do you wish to say?" she asked, half doubtfully.

"I overheard," he remarked, "your order to your maid. She had something to say to you, but you gave her no opportunity."

"And you?" she asked, "what do you wish to say?"

"I wish to advise you," he said, "not to leave the hotel."

She looked at him doubtfully.

"You cannot understand," she said, "why I wish to leave it. I have no alternative."

"Nevertheless," he said, "I hope that you will change your mind."

"Are you a detective?" she asked abruptly.

"Madam is correct!"

The flush of colour faded from her cheeks.

"I presume, then," she said, "that I am under your surveillance?"

"In a sense," he admitted, "it is true."

"On the steamer," she remarked, "you spoke as though your interest in me was not inimical."

"Nor is it," he answered promptly. "You are in a difficult position, but you may find things not so bad as you imagine. At present my advice to you is this: Go upstairs to your room and stay there."

The little man had a compelling manner. Lucille made her way towards the elevator.

"As a matter of fact," she murmured bitterly, "I am not, I suppose, permitted to leave the hotel?"

"Madam puts the matter bluntly," he answered; "but certainly if you should insist upon leaving, it would be my duty to follow you."

She turned away from him and entered the elevator. The door of her room was slightly ajar, and she saw that a waiter was busy at a small round table. She looked at him in surprise. He was arranging places for two.

"Who gave you your orders?" she asked.

"But it was monsieur," the man answered, with a low bow. "Dinner for two."

"Monsieur?" she repeated. "What monsieur?"

"I am the culprit," a familiar voice answered from the depths of an easy-chair, whose back was to her. "I was very hungry, and it occurred to me that under the circ.u.mstances you would probably not have dined either. I hope that you will like what I have ordered. The plovers' eggs look delicious."

She gave a little cry of joy. It was Mr. Sabin.