Sir Ralph Sapson was in a particularly cheerful mood that night. In the brief interview which he had had with his future father-in-law he had not only secured a tacit agreement of his right to be admitted to the family and an expression of Lord Flanborough’s approval, but he had clinched a very excellent business arrangement which had been hanging fire for twelve months—an arrangement which may be briefly summarized:
Lord Flanborough was the chairman of the Austral-African Steamship Company which carried merchandise and passengers between Cape Town and Plymouth. Sir Ralph was the chairman of the London and Seahampton Railway and was also chairman and a large shareholder in the Seahampton Dock Improvement Company. The docks had improved much more rapidly than had the trade which could justify their existence and the deal which was really a sideline to the more romantic business of a matrimonial alliance, was that the ships of the A-A line should shamelessly abandon Plymouth and Liverpool and should have their headquarters at Seahampton, an arrangement which offered advantages on both sides, since Lord Flanborough was not without interest in the Seahampton docks.
The night was chilly, a full moon rode serenely in the skies; there was a touch of frost in the air and more than a suspicion of frost on the sidewalk. Sir Ralph Sapson’s car was waiting, but he ordered the chauffeur to drive home, saying that he would prefer to walk. Sir Ralph lived in Park Lane so that he had nearly a mile to cover, but he was in that mood which made light of so unusual an exercise. He reached the door of his imposing residence and his hand was on the bell when he heard his name called. He had noticed as he walked up to his door that a little distance along the road was a big motor car, its head lamps gleaming and a chauffeur busy tinkering with the engine.
“I am afraid you don’t know me,” said a sweet voice.
Sir Ralph raised his hat.
The girl who stood on the sidewalk was obviously a lady. She was as obviously beautifully dressed, and Sir Ralph who had an appraising eye valued the ermine cloak she wore at something not far short of a thousand pounds. A single broad collar of diamonds about her slender throat was all the jewellery she wore.
“I am afraid I don’t,” he said.
“I only met you once,” said the girl timidly, “in Paris. You were introduced to me in the foyer of—”
“Oh, yes, at the Opera, of course,” said Sir Ralph who, amongst other things, was a patron of the Arts.
She nodded and seemed pleased that he had remembered her, a compliment which Sir Ralph did not fail to observe.
“My car has broken down,” she said, “and I was wondering if I could beg your hospitality. It is so horribly shivery here.”
She drew her cloak tighter around her.
“With all the pleasure in life,” said Sir Ralph heartily, “but I have only a bachelor’s establishment, you know,” he laughed.
He rang the bell and the door was opened instantly.
“Put some lights in the drawing room,” he said to the servant. “Is there a fire there?”
“Yes, Sir Ralph,” said the man.
“Can I get you some coffee or a little wine?”
She had pulled a big chair up before the blaze and was resting her little white slippers upon the silver fender. Her shapely hands were outspread to the fire and Sir Ralph noted that on her fingers there was no sign of the plain gold circle of bondage.
“You will think it awfully rude in me, but I cannot recall your name,” he said, when the servant had gone.
“I don’t suppose you do, my name is rather a barbarous one,” she laughed. “I am the Princess Bacheffski.”
“Why, of course!” said Sir Ralph heartily, “I remember distinctly now.”
To do him justice, Russian princesses are not unusual phenomena in Paris and he had a very bad memory for foreign names.
“I suppose I am being very unconventional,” she said with a little grimace, and for the first time he noticed that she spoke with the slightest accent, “but needs must when the devil drives, and I had either to sit in that cold car or grasp the good fortune which fate threw in my way. And you, Sir Ralph, are looking just the same as when I saw you last. You are one of the big business men in London, aren’t you?”
“I have a few interests,” admitted Sir Ralph modestly.
They talked of Paris which Sir Ralph knew, and of Russia through which he had travelled on one occasion, and of London, and then the coffee came and a few minutes later, her chauffeur, to tell her that the repairs had been effected.
“Before I go I want to ask you one favour, Sir Ralph,” she said.
She was a little embarrassed and nervously twisted a ring on her finger. Sir Ralph saw this and wondered.
“You have only to ask anything, Princess, and it is granted,” he said gallantly.
She hesitated a moment and bit her lip in thought.
“I am going to take you into my confidence, and I know as a man of honour” (Sir Ralph bowed) “you will not betray me. I am in London, but I am not supposed to be in London.”
She looked at him anxiously as she made this confession.
“I understand,” said Sir Ralph, which was not true.
“You have probably noticed—you were so quick at seeing those things—that I am not wearing my wedding ring. Well,” she hesitated, “Dimitri and I have quarrelled, and I do not want him to find me. I haven’t been to the Embassy or to call on any of my old friends.”
“You may be sure,” said Sir Ralph, “that your secret is safe. I may say,” he added, “that this is not the first time I have been entrusted with a confidence as delicate.”
“I know I can trust you,” she said, warmly gripping his hand. “I am staying in a little furnished flat which I have taken in
