THESE young persons were thus at once confronted across the room, and the girl explained her preparation. “I was listening hard—for your knock and your voice.”

“Then know that, thank God, it's all right!”—Hugh was breathless, jubilant, radiant.

“A Mantovano?” she delightedly cried.

“A Mantovano!” he proudly gave back.

“A Mantovano!”—it carried even Lady Sandgate away.

“A Mantovano—a sure thing?” Mr. Bender jumped up from his business, all gaping attention to Hugh.

“I’ve just left our blest Bardi,” said that young man—“who hasn't the shadow of a doubt and is delighted to publish it everywhere.”

“Will he publish it right here to me?” Mr. Bender hungrily asked.

“Well,” Hugh smiled, “you can try him.”

“But try him how, where?” The great collector, straining to instant action, cast about for his hat. “Where is he, hey?”

“Don't you wish I’d tell you?” Hugh, in his personal elation, almost cynically answered.

“Won't you wait for the Prince?” Lady Sandgate had meanwhile asked of her friend; but had turned more inspectingly to Lady Grace before he could reply. “My dear child—though you’re lovely!—are you sure you’re ready for him?”

“For the Prince!”—the girl was vague. “Is he coming?”

“At five-forty-five.” With which she consulted her bracelet watch, but only at once to wail for alarm. “Ah, it is that, and I’m not dressed!” She hurried off through the other room.

Mr. Bender, quite accepting her retreat, addressed himself again unabashed to Hugh. “It's your blest Bardi I want first—I’ll take the Prince after.”

The young man clearly could afford indulgence now. “Then I left him at Long's Hotel.”

“Why, right near! I’ll come back.” And Mr. Bender's flight was on the wings of optimism.

But it all gave Hugh a quick question for Lady Grace. “Why does the Prince come, and what in the world's happening?”

“My father has suddenly returned—it may have to do with that.”

The shadow of his surprise darkened visibly to that of his fear. “Mayn't it be more than anything else to give you and me his final curse?”