"I shall," Sofia announced with decision. "When am I to see him? To-night?"

"Of course. That is, I presume you will. I mean to say, Prince Victor
wasn't at home when I left, but if I know him he's sure to be when we
arrive. And I'm taking you there as directly as a motor can travel in this
blessed town."

Sofia looked out of the window. The car, having turned down Regent Street
from Piccadilly Circus, was now traversing sedate Pall Mall; and in another
moment it swung into the passage between St. James's Palace and Marlborough
House Chapel; and then they were in The Mall, with the Victoria Memorial
ahead, glowing against the dingy backing of Buckingham Palace.

Now, since all Sofia's reading had inculcated the belief that the
enterprising kidnapper always made off with his victim by way of dark
bystreets and unsavoury neighbourhoods, she felt somewhat reassured.

"Have we very far to go?"

"We're almost there now--Queen Anne's Gate."

A good enough address. Though that proved nothing. There was still plenty
of time, anything might happen....

Sofia shrugged, and settled back to await developments.

But there was nothing to warrant misgivings in the aspect of the dwelling
before which the car presently drew up. If it wasn't the palace Sofia had
unconsciously been looking forward to, it owned a solid, dull-faced dignity
that suited well the town-house of a person of quality, it measured up