"Please: what is my father's name?"

"Prince Victor Vassilyevski."

"You're sure it isn't Michael Lanyard?"

Now Mr. Karslake was genuinely startled and showed it. Sofia remarked that
he eyed her uneasily.

"My sainted aunt! Where did you get hold of that name?"

"Isn't it my father's?"

"Ye-es," the young man admitted, reluctantly; at least with something
strongly resembling reluctance. "But he doesn't use it any more."

"Why not?"

Mr. Karslake was silent, thoughtful. Sofia felt that she had scored and
with determination pressed her point.

"Do you mind telling me why he doesn't use that name, if it's his?"

"See here, Princess Sofia"--Karslake slewed round to face her squarely with
his most earnest and persuasive manner--"I am merely Prince Victor's
secretary, I'm not supposed to know all his secrets, and those I do know
I'm supposed not to talk about. I'd much rather you put that question to
Prince Victor yourself."