"But do not
address or sign it. There is danger in any communication between
you."
She took a sheet of note-paper and hastily wrote a few words.
"I have need of your help. Will you be at Charing Cross at twelve
o'clock prepared for a journey.--Lucille."
The Prince took the letter from her and hastily folded it up.
"I will deliver it myself," he announced. "It will perhaps be
safest. Until I return, Lucille, do not stir from the house or see
any one. Muriel has given the servants orders to admit no one.
All your life," he added, after a moment's pause, "you have been a
little cruel to me, and this time also. I shall pray that you will
relent before our next meeting."
She rose to her feet and looked him full in the face. She seemed
to be following out her own train of thought rather than taking
note of his words.
"Even now," she said thoughtfully, "I am not sure that I can trust
you. I have a good mind to fight or scream my way out of this
house, and go myself to see Victor."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"The fighting or the screaming will not be necessary, dear
Countess," he said. "The doors are open to you. But it is as clear
as day that if you go to the hotel or near it you will at once be
recognised, and recognition means arrest. There is a limit beyond
which one cannot help a wilful woman.
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