and in this way he diverted attention from the Prince, and

sometimes gained admission for the pair into strange societies.

The civil authorities were never taken into the secret of these

adventures; the imperturbable courage of the one and the ready

invention and chivalrous devotion of the other had brought them

through a score of dangerous passes; and they grew in confidence as

time went on.

One evening in March they were driven by a sharp fall of sleet into

an Oyster Bar in the immediate neighbourhood of Leicester Square.

Colonel Geraldine was dressed and painted to represent a person

connected with the Press in reduced circumstances; while the Prince

had, as usual, travestied his appearance by the addition of false

whiskers and a pair of large adhesive eyebrows. These lent him a

shaggy and weather-beaten air, which, for one of his urbanity,

formed the most impenetrable disguise. Thus equipped, the

commander and his satellite sipped their brandy and soda in

security.

The bar was full of guests, male and female; but though more than

one of these offered to fall into talk with our adventurers, none

of them promised to grow interesting upon a nearer acquaintance.

There was nothing present but the lees of London and the

commonplace of disrespectability; and the Prince had already fallen

to yawning, and was beginning to grow weary of the whole excursion,

when the swing doors were pushed violently open, and a young man,

followed by a couple of commissionaires, entered the bar. Each of

the commissionaires carried a large dish of cream tarts under a

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