smiles, and talking volubly in an unknown tongue. The intruder was dressed in a gor-geously embroidered purple vestment, and in his snowy turban blazed a diamond the size of a pigeon’s egg. From the doorway of the invaded suite a couple of pale, fierce faces glared for an instant, and then the door was shut.
“It’s all right,” the General announced to the assembled spectators, who by this time included Mrs. Sadgrove and the Shermans. “This is his Highness the Thakore of Bhurtnagur, and he didn’t mean to be rude. Just a little misunderstanding of his legal rights outside his own jurisdiction. He says he’ll look for rooms at some other hotel, as he can’t have those he wants here.”
A murmur of relief went up from the embarrassed attendants, who with great deference proceeded to escort the swarthy potentate to the carriage which it was understood was waiting for him. At the same time Mrs. Sadgrove held out her hand to Mrs. Talmage Eglinton, and, declining that lady’s not too pressing offer of tea, sailed away to the stairhead, accompanied by Leonie and her mother. The General was the last to make his adieus,
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