social position that prevents so much. And yet—yet I must tell her. It’s imperative. I must contrive somehow or other to evade that steely maternal eye. I wonder if the mother has any suspicion—whether—?”

But he replaced his cigarette between his lips without completing the expression of his doubts.

As the sunlight began to mellow, he still sat alone, thinking deeply. Then he moved to go and dress, having resolved to dine in the public restaurant with his American friends. Just then Charles opened the door, ushering in a rather pale-faced, clean-shaven man in dark grey tweeds. He entered with a jaunty air and was somewhat arrogant of manner, as he strode across the room.

The Prince’s greeting was greatly the reverse of cordial.

“What brings you here, Max?” he inquired sharply. “Didn’t I telegraph to you only this morning?”

“Yes. But I wanted a breath of sea-air, so came down. I want to know if you’re going to keep the appointment next Monday—or not.”

“I can’t tell yet.”

“Hylda is anxious to know. You promised her, remember.”

“I know. But apologise, and say that—well, I have some private business here. You know what to say, Max. And I may want you down here in a hurry. Come at once if I wire.”

The man looked him straight in the face for a few moments.

“Oh!” he ejaculated, and then without being invited, crossed and took a cigarette.

“Charles,” said the visitor to the valet who had remained in the room, “give me a drink. Let me wish success to matrimony.” And with a knowing laugh he tossed off the whisky and soda handed to him. For half an hour he remained chatting confidentially with the Prince, then he left, saying that he should dine alone at the Old Ship, and return to London at ten.

When Max Mason had gone, Prince Albert heaved a long sigh, and passed into the adjoining room to dress.

That night proved a momentous one in his Highness’s life, for after dinner Mrs Jesup complained of a bad headache, and retiring at once to her room, left the young people together. What more natural, therefore, than that his Highness should invite Mary to put on her wrap and go for a stroll along the promenade in the moonlight. She accepted the invitation eagerly, and went up to her mother’s room.

“I’m going for a walk with him, mother,” she cried excitedly as she burst into the room where Mrs Jesup, with all traces of headache gone, was lazily reading a novel.

“That’s real good. Put on something thick, child, for its chilly,” was the maternal reply. “And, remember, you don’t go flirting with Princes very often.”

“No, mother, but just leave him to me. I’ve been thinking over what you say, and I mean to be Princess of Hesse-Holstein before the year’s out. Or else—”

“Or else there’ll be trouble—eh?” laughed her mother.

But the girl had disappeared to join the man who loved her, and who was waiting below.

In the bright August moonlight they strolled together as far as Hove, where they sat upon a seat outside the Lawns. The evening was perfect, and there were many passers-by, mostly couples more or less amatory.

Never had a girl so attracted him as had Mary that calm and glorious night. Never had he looked into a woman’s eyes and seen there love reflected as in hers. They rose and strolled back again, back to the pier which they traversed to its head. There they found a seat unoccupied, and rested upon it.

And there, taking her little hand tenderly in his, he blurted forth, in the blundering words of a blundering man, the story of his affection.

She heard him in silence to the end.

“I—I think, Prince, you have not fully considered what all this means. What—”

“It means, Mary, that I love you—love you deeply and devotedly as no other man has ever loved a woman! I am not given to ecstasies over affection, for I long ago thought every spark of it was dead within my heart. I repeat, however, that I love you.” And ere she could prevent him, he had raised her hand and pressed it to his lips.

She tried to withdraw it, but he held it firmly. The moon shone full upon her sweet face, and he noticed how pale and beautiful she looked. She gave him one glance, and in that instant he saw the light of unshed tears. But she was silent, and her silence puzzled him.

“Ah!” he sighed despondently. “Am I correct, then, in suspecting that you already have a lover?”

“A lover? Whom do you mean?”

“That tall, fair-haired, mysterious man who, during the past week, has been so interested in your movements. Have you not noticed him? He’s staying at the hotel. I’ve seen him twenty times at least, and it is only too apparent that he admires you.”

“I’ve never even seen him,” she exclaimed in surprise. “You must point him out to me. I don’t like mysterious men.”

“I’m not mysterious, am I?” asked the Prince, laughing, and again raising her hand to his lips tenderly. “Will you not answer my question? Do you think you can love me sufficiently—sufficiently to become my wife?”

“But—but all this is so sudden, Prince. I—I—”

“Can you love me?” he interrupted.

For answer she bent her head. Next moment his lips met hers in a hot passionate caress. And thus did their hearts beat in unison.

Before they rose from the seat Mary Jesup had promised to become Princess of Hesse-Holstein.

Next morning, the happy girl told her mother the gratifying news, and when Mrs Jesup entered the Prince’s private salon his Highness asked her, at least for the present, to keep their engagement secret.

That day the Prince was occupied by a quantity of correspondence, but the future Princess, after a tender kiss upon her white brow, went out in the car with her mother as far as Bognor. Two hours later the Prince sent a telegram to the Rev. Thomas Clayton, despatched Charles post-haste to London by the Pullman express, and then went out for a stroll along King’s Road.

He was one of the happiest men in all the world.

Not until dinner did he again meet Mrs Jesup and her daughter. After describing what an excellent run they had had, the millionaire’s wife said:

“Oh, Mary has been telling me something about a mysterious fair-haired man whom you say has been watching her.”

“Yes,” replied his Highness. “He’s been hanging about for some days. I fancy he’s no good—one of those fellows who live in hotels on the look-out for pigeons.”

“What we call in America a crook—eh?”

“Exactly. At least that’s my opinion,” he declared in confidence.

Mrs Jesup and her daughter appeared both very uneasy, a circumstance which the Prince did not fail to notice. They went up to his salon where they had coffee, and then retired early.

Half an hour later, while his Highness was lazily enjoying one of his brown “Petroffs,” the millionaire’s wife, with blanched face, burst into the room crying:

“Prince! Oh, Prince! The whole of my jewels and Mary’s have been stolen! Both cases have been broken open and the contents gone! My