Twenty minutes later, Prince Blank stepped hurriedly across the platform, unnoticed save by half a dozen obsequious officials, and entered the compartment reserved for him. The obsequious officials bowed. Prince Blank, in military fashion, raised his hand. The 6.40 steamed out slowly.
Prince Blank, who was a stout gentleman, though he tried to disguise the fact, seldom found himself alone. When he did, he generally indulged himself in a little healthy relaxation. With two hours' run to Southampton before him, free from all possibility of intrusion, Prince Blank let loose the buttons of his powerfully built waistcoat, rested his bald head on the top of his chair, stretched his great legs across another, and closed his terrible, small eyes.
For an instant it seemed to Prince Blank that a draught had entered into the carriage. As, however, the sensation immediately passed away, he did not trouble to wake up. Then the Prince dreamed that somebody was in the carriage with him--was sitting opposite to him.
This being an annoying sort of dream, the Prince opened his eyes for the purpose of dispelling it. There was somebody sitting opposite to him--a very grimy little person, wiping blood off its face and hands with a dingy handkerchief. Had the Prince been a man capable of surprise, he would have been surprised.
"It's all right," assured him Tommy. "I ain't here to do any harm.
I ain't an Anarchist."
The Prince, by a muscular effort, retired some four or five inches and commenced to rebutton his waistcoat.
"How did you get here?" asked the Prince.
"'Twas a bigger job than I'd reckoned on," admitted Tommy, seeking a dry inch in the smeared handkerchief, and finding none. "But that don't matter," added Tommy cheerfully, "now I'm here."
"If you do not wish me to hand you over to the police at Southampton, you had better answer my questions," remarked the Prince drily.
Tommy was not afraid of princes, but in the lexicon of her harassed youth "Police" had always been a word of dread.
"I wanted to get at you."
"I gather that."
"There didn't seem any other way. It's jolly difficult to get at you. You're so jolly artful."
"Tell me how you managed it."
"There's a little bridge for signals just outside Waterloo. I could see that the train would have to pass under it. So I climbed up and waited. It being a foggy night, you see, nobody twigged me.
I say, you are Prince Blank, ain't you?"
"I am Prince Blank."
"Should have been mad if I'd landed the wrong man."
"Go on."
"I knew which was your carriage--leastways, I guessed it; and as it came along, I did a drop." Tommy spread out her arms and legs to illustrate the action. "The lamps, you know," explained Tommy, still dabbing at her face--"one of them caught me."
"And from the roof?"
"Oh, well, it was easy after that. There's an iron thing at the back, and steps. You've only got to walk downstairs and round the corner, and there you are. Bit of luck your other door not being locked. I hadn't thought of that. Haven't got such a thing as a handkerchief about you, have you?"
The Prince drew one from his sleeve and passed it to her. "You mean to tell me, boy--"
"Ain't a boy," explained Tommy. "I'm a girl!"
She said it sadly. Deeming her new friends such as could be trusted, Tommy had accepted their statement that she really was a girl. But for many a long year to come the thought of her lost manhood tinged her voice with bitterness.
"A girl!"
Tommy nodded her head.
"Umph!" said the Prince; "I have heard a good deal about the English girl. I was beginning to think it exaggerated. Stand up."
Tommy obeyed. It was not altogether her way; but with those eyes beneath their shaggy brows bent upon her, it seemed the ******st thing to do.
"So. And now that you are here, what do you want?"
"To interview you."
Tommy drew forth her list of questions.
The shaggy brows contracted.
"Who put you up to this absurdity? Who was it? Tell me at once."
"Nobody."
"Don't lie to me. His name?"
The terrible, small eyes flashed fire. But Tommy also had a pair of eyes. Before their blaze of indignation the great man positively quailed. This type of opponent was new to him.
"I'm not lying."
"I beg your pardon," said the Prince.