Now she was come to the island and, so far as he had been able to see, there was no sign of the Prince of Brabetz in attendance.  The absence of the little musician set Chase to thinking, then to speculating and, in the end, to rejoicing.  Her uncle by marriage, an English nobleman of high degree, in gathering his friends for the long cruise, evidently had left the Prince out of his party, for what reason Chase could not imagine.  To say that the omission was gratifying to the tall American would be too simple a statement.  There is no telling to what heights his thoughts might have carried him on that sultry afternoon if they had not been harshly checked by the arrival of a messenger from the chateau.  His blood leaped with anticipation.  Selim brought word that the messenger was waiting to deliver a note.  The Enemy, who shall be called by his true name hereafter, steadied himself and commanded that the man be brought forthwith.

Could it be possible—­but no! She would not be writing to him.  What a ridiculous thought!  Lady Deppingham?  Ah, there was the solution!  She was acting as the go-between, she was the intermediary!  She and the Princess had put their cunning heads together—­but, alas!  His hopes fell flat as the note was put into his eager hand.  It was from Britt.

Still he broke the seal with considerable eagerness.  As he perused the somewhat lengthy message, his disappointment gave way to a no uncertain form of excitement; with its conclusion, he was on his feet, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm.

“By George!” he exclaimed.  “What luck!  Things are coming my way with a vengeance.  I’ll do it this very night, thanks to Britt.  And I must not forget Browne.  Ah, what a consolation it is to know that there are Americans wherever one goes.  Selim!  Selim!” He was standing as straight as a corporal and his eyes were glistening with the fire of battle when Selim came up and forgot to salute, so great was his wonder at the transformation.  “Get word to the men that I want every mother’s son of ’em to attend a meeting in the market-place to-night at nine.  Very important, tell ’em.  Tell Von Blitz that he’s got to be there.  I’m going to show him and my picturesque friend, Rasula, that I am here to stay.  And, Selim, tell that messenger to wait.  There’s an answer.”

Long before nine o’clock the men of Japat began to gather in the market and trading place.  It was evident that they expected and were prepared for the crisis.  Von Blitz and Rasula, who had played second fiddle until he could stand it no longer, were surprised and somewhat staggered by the peremptory tone of the call, but could see no chance for the American to shift his troublesome burden.  The subdued, sullen air of the men who filled the torchlighted market-place brooded ill for any attempt Chase might make to reconcile them to his peculiar views, no matter how thoroughly they may have been misunderstood by the people.  Explanations were easy to make, but difficult to establish.  Chase could convince them, no doubt, that he was not guilty of double dealing, but it would be next to impossible to extinguish the blaze of jealousy that was consuming the reason of the head men of Japat, skilfully fed by the tortured Von Blitz and blown upon ceaselessly by the breath of scandal.