‘No wonder he was disappointed at seeing us—­he was expecting them!’ said Janet, smiling a little.

‘They are sure to come,’ said Miss Goodwin.

Near us a couple of yachtsmen were conversing.

‘Oh, he’ll be back in a day or two,’ one said.  ’When you ’ve once tasted that old boy, you can’t do without him.  I remember when I was a youngster—­it was in Lady Betty Bolton’s day; she married old Edbury, you know, first wife—­the Magnificent was then in his prime.  He spent his money in a week:  so he hired an eighty-ton schooner; he laid violent hands on a Jew, bagged him, lugged him on board, and sailed away.’

‘What the deuce did he want with a Jew?’ cried the other.

‘Oh, the Jew supplied cheques for a three months’ cruise in the Mediterranean, and came home, I heard, very good friends with his pirate.  That’s only one of dozens.’

The unconscious slaughterers laughed.

’On another occasion’—­I heard it said by the first speaker, as they swung round to parade the pier, and passed on narrating.

‘Not an hotel, if it is possible to avoid it,’ my aunt Dorothy, with heightened colour, urged Miss Goodwin.  They talked together.

‘Grandada is coming to you, Harry,’ Janet said.  ’He has business in London, or he would have been here now.  Our horses and carriages follow us:  everything you would like.  He does love you! he is very anxious.  I’m afraid his health is worse than he thinks.  Temple did not say your father was here, but grandada must have suspected it when he consented to our coming, and said he would follow us.  So that looks well perhaps.  He has been much quieter since your money was paid back to you.  If they should meet . . . no, I hope they will not:  grandada hates noise.  And, Harry, let me tell you:  it may be nothing:  if he questions you, do not take fire; just answer plainly:  I’m sure you understand.  One in a temper at a time I’m sure ’s enough:  you have only to be patient with him.  He has been going to London, to the City, seeing lawyers, bankers, brokers, and coming back muttering.  Ah! dear old man.  And when he ought to have peace!  Harry, the poor will regret him in a thousand places.  I write a great deal for him now, and I know how they will.  What are you looking at?’

I was looking at a man of huge stature, of the stiffest build, whose shoulders showed me their full breadth while he stood displaying frontwards the open of his hand in a salute.

‘Schwartz!’ I called.  Janet started, imagining some fierce interjection.  The giant did not stir.

But others had heard.  A lady stepped forward.  ’Dear Mr. Harry Richmond!  Then you are better?  We had most alarming news of you.’

I bowed to the Frau von Dittmarsch, anciently Miss Sibley.

‘The princess?’

‘She is here.’

Frau von Dittmarsch clasped Miss Goodwin’s hand.  I was touching Ottilia’s.  A veil partly swathed her face.  She trembled:  the breeze robbed me of her voice.