He paused and Mr. Frothingham rushed to his assistance.

“As the family solicitor,” said the lawyer, pursing his lips, and waving his hands, once, from the wrists, “would you not better divulge to my ear alone, the—­a—­”

“No—­no!” flashed Olivia.  “No, Mr. Frothingham—­please.”

The prince inclined his head.

“Will it surprise you, Miss Holland,” he said, “to learn that I made my voyage to this country expressly to seek you out?”

“To seek me?” exclaimed Olivia.  “But—­has anything happened to my father?”

“We hope not,” replied the prince, “but what I have to tell will none the less occasion you anxiety.  Briefly, Miss Holland, it is more than three months since your father suddenly and mysteriously disappeared from Yaque, leaving absolutely no clue to his whereabouts.”

A little cry broke from Olivia’s lips that went to St. George’s heart.  Mrs. Hastings, with a gesture that was quite wild and sent her bonnet hopelessly to one side, burst into a volley of exclamations and demands.

“Who did it?” she wailed.  “Who did it?  Otho is a gentleman.  He would never have the bad taste to disappear, like all those dreadful people’s wives, if somebody hadn’t—­”

“My dear Madame,” interposed Mr. Frothingham, “calm—­calm yourself.  There are families of undisputed position which record disappearances in several generations.”

“Please,” pleaded Olivia.  “Ah, tell us,” she begged the prince again.

“There is, unfortunately, but little to tell, Miss Holland,” said the prince with sympathetic regret.  “I had the honour, three months ago, to entertain the king, your father, at dinner.  We parted at midnight.  His Majesty seemed—­”

“His Majesty!” repeated Mrs. Hastings, smiling up at the opposite wall as if her thought saw glories.

“—­in the best of health and spirits,” continued the prince.  “A meeting of the High Council was to be held at noon on the following day.  The king did not appear.  From that moment no eye in Yaque has fallen upon him.”

“One moment, your Highness,” said St. George quickly; “in the absence of the king, who presides over the High Council?”

“As the head of the House of the Litany, the chief administrator of justice, it is I,” said the prince with humility.

“Ah, yes,” St. George said evenly.

“But what have you done?” cried Olivia.  “Have you had search made?  Have you—­”

“Everything,” the prince assured her.  “The island is not large.  Not a corner of it remains unvisited.  The people, who were devoted to the king, your father, have sought night and day.  There is, it is hardly right to conceal from you,” the prince hesitated, “a circumstance which makes the disappearance the more alarming.”

“Tell us.  Keep nothing from us, I beg, Prince Tabnit,” besought Olivia.