days."

"Are you being meteorological or complimentary?" she asked, smiling.
"Will you present your companion? I have heard of Mr. Kingley."

"With the utmost pleasure," the Prince replied. "Mr. Kingley, through
the unfortunate death of a relative, is now the Earl of
Dorminster--Mademoiselle Karetsky."

Nigel, as he made his bow, was conscious of an expression of something
more than ordinary curiosity in the face of the girl who had herself
aroused his interest.

"You are the son, then," she enquired, "of Lord Dorminster who died
about a month ago?"

"His nephew," Nigel explained. "My uncle was unfortunately childless."

"I met your uncle once in Paris," she said. "It will give me great
pleasure to make your better acquaintance. Will you and my dear friend
here," she added, turning to the Prince, "take coffee with us
afterwards? I shall then introduce you to my father. Oscar Immelan you
both know, of course."

They murmured their delighted assent, and she passed on. Nigel watched
her until she took her place at the table.

"Surely that girl is well-born?" he observed. "I have never seen a more
delightful carriage."