The landing was a perfectly carried out farce. Everybody appeared to be in high spirits and even Prince von Diss managed to infuse a little cordiality into his thanks for the delightful hospitality he had experienced. Grant was very apologetic about the slight trouble with his engines. Everybody assured him, however, that the few extra hours at sea had been a pleasure and studiously avoided any mention of the mingled farce and drama which they had evoked. On the subject of his dinner, which, after two postponements, had been fixed for the following night, Mr. Cornelius Blunn was eloquent.

“If a single one of you denies me,” he declared, “I shall be hurt. It is going to give me the greatest possible pleasure to feel myself, for once, a host, to endeavour to repay a little the sumptuous hospitality I have received. We meet at the Hotel de Paris at eight o’clock. I have, by the bye, asked His Majesty, the King of Gothland, to meet you. His Majesty is most agreeable and his presence will in no way interfere with what I hope is going to be a cheery evening.”

Susan and Grant exchanged amused glances more than once, during this somewhat drawn out business of leave-taking. Once she drew near enough to him to whisper.

“What a gorgeous farce! Aren’t we all clever?”

“Blunn is the man I admire,” he confided. “The Prince can’t get away with it. He looks as though he wanted to stick a knife into some one.”

There was a little sprinkling of journalists upon the quay, who had come down on the report that an accident had happened to the Grey Lady. They attached themselves especially to Baron Funderstrom, who had, however, one reply to them all.

“It was unfortunate that I could not attend the meeting of the Conference,” he said, “owing to the slight accident to the engines which happened when we were some distance out at sea. As a matter of fact, however, I know quite well what the agenda consisted of and there was nothing in which my views did not coincide with the majority.”

“You know,” one of the journalists asked him, “that the Conference has decided to invite America to join the Pact?”

“I imagined that would take place,” he admitted, without change of countenance. “The decision to forward the invitation was, I presume, unanimous?”

“The discussion took place in private session,” the journalist pointed out. “But one understands that there was no opposition.”

Grant glanced at his watch.

“I wonder if your father is back from Nice?” he said to Susan.

She shook her head.

“He doesn’t usually arrive at the Villa until six o’clock. Now that the regular sessions have commenced, it may be even later.”

“I will come up with you, if I may,” he suggested. “I want to see him as soon as possible after he returns. Besides, I want to escape from these people.”

“Come along,” Susan agreed. “We had better take a carriage. They may send the car down when they see the yacht coming in, but as Peters will be over with Dad at Nice I should think it’s doubtful.”

They drove off and the remainder of the little company melted away from the pier, all apparently in the highest of spirits.

“I must say one thing about Blunn,” Grant declared, as they looked backward for a moment from the top of the hill. “He’s an unprincipled scoundrel, of course, but he’s a sportsman.”

“He’s much better than that Prince von Diss or that terrible Scandinavian,” Susan assented.

“I suppose you realise,” he went on, “that you were the pluckiest person on board.”

“Nonsense!” she answered, colouring with pleasure. “It was really a tremendous rag.”

“I’m not quite sure what that misguided young officer of mine thought about it when he found himself held up by a girl,” Grant observed drily. “They’d have brought it off but for you.”

“I’m very glad,” she murmured. “Next time you give a party like that I hope I’m there.”

He looked at her for a moment a little wistfully. Youth had certainly befriended her. Gertrude had risen that morning with dark lines under her eyes and her manner on the dock had been almost spiritless. There was nothing in Susan’s happy face and smiling expression to indicate a night of anxiety.

“I wish you weren’t such a kid,” he said suddenly............