“There she is now, sleeping out there in the harbour, a great, big thing with the kindest of hearts inside of those steel ribs.  Her Majesty’s ship, the King’s Own! Think of it!  She convoys a private yacht; she stops off at this beastly island to catch her breath and to see that all are safe; then she charges off into the horizon like a bird that has no home.  Ah, I tell you, it’s wonderful.  Samrat, fill the Count’s glass again.  May I offer you a cigarette, Princess?  By the way, I wonder how Chase came off with his side show?”

“Saunders tells me that he was near to being butchered, but luck was with him,” said Deppingham.  “His ship came home.”

“It was a daring trick.  I’m glad he pulled it off.  He’s a man, that fellow is,” said Browne.  “See, Princess, away up there in the mountain is his home.  There’s a light—­see it?  He keeps rather late hours, you see.”

“Tell me about him,” said the Princess suddenly.  She arose and walked to the vine-covered wall, followed by Bobby Browne.

“I don’t know much to tell you,” said he.  “He’s made an enemy or two and they are trying to drive him out.  I’d be rather sorry to see him go.  We’ve asked him down here, just because we can’t bear to think of a fellow-creature wasting his days in utter loneliness.  But he has, so far, declined with thanks.  The islanders are beginning to hate him.  They distrust him, Britt says.  Of course, you know why we are here, you—­”

“Every one knows, Mr. Browne.  You are the most interesting quartette in the world just now.  Every one is wondering how it is going to end.  What a pity you can’t marry Lady Agnes.”

“Oh, I say!” protested Browne.  She laughed merrily.

“But how dull it must be for Mr. Chase!  Does he complain?”

“I can’t say that he does.  Britt—­that’s my lawyer—­Britt says he’s never heard a murmur from him.  He takes his medicine with a smile.  I like that sort of a fellow and I wish he’d be a little more friendly.  It couldn’t interfere with his duties and I don’t see where the harm would come in for any of us.”

“He has learned to know and keep his place,” said she coolly.  Perhaps she was thinking of his last night in the palace garden.  Away up there in the darkness gleamed his single, lonely, pathetic little light.  “Isn’t it rather odd, Mr. Browne, that his light should be burning at two o’clock in the morning?  Is it his custom to sit up—­”

“I’ve never noticed it before, now you speak of it.  I hope nothing serious has happened to him.  He may have been injured in—­I say, if you don’t mind, I’ll ask some one to telephone up to his place.  It would be beastly to let him lie up there alone if we can be of any service to—­”

“Yes, do telephone,” she broke in.  “I am sure Lady Deppingham will approve.  No, thank you; I will stand here a while.  It is cool and I love the stars.”  He hurried off to the telephone, more eager than ever, now that she had started the new thought in his brain.  Five minutes later he returned to her, accompanied by Lady Agnes.  She was still looking at—­the stars?  The little light among the trees could easily have been mistaken for a star.