He was beginning to feel afraid for Anne, and to wonder in what way she was connected with such a blackguard.
However, he saw nothing and turned his face homeward.
Just as he was leaving the park on the side near the cemetery he saw something glittering in the grass.
This he picked up, and was so amazed that he could only stare at it dumb-founded.
And his astonishment was little to be wondered at.
He held in his hand a half-sovereign with an amethyst, a diamond, and a pearl set into the gold.
It was the very ornament which he had given Anne Denham on the night of the children's party at The Elms—the coin of His Most Gracious Majesty King Edward VII. _____
CHAPTER XV
AN AWKWARD INTERVIEW
The discovery of the coin perplexed Giles.
It was certainly the trinket attached to the bangle which he had given Anne.
And here he found it in the grounds of the Priory.
This would argue that she was in the neighborhood, in the house it might be.
She had never been to the Priory when living at The Elms, certainly not after the New Year, when she first became possessed of the coin.
He decided, therefore, that at some late period—within the last few days—she had been in the park, and there had lost the coin.
It would, indeed, be strange if this trifling present which he had made her should be the means of tracing her to her hiding-place.
And that hiding-place was the Priory. Giles felt sure of this.
If she was in the neighborhood and walking about openly, she would be discovered and arrested.
Therefore she must be concealed in the house.
She had gone off with Walter Franklin, and here she was under the wing of his brother George.
The case grew more mysterious and perplexing as time went on.
Giles did not know which way to turn, or what advantage to reap from this discovery.
Certainly, if he could get into the Priory and search the house, he might discover Anne.
Or, it might be, that if he confided in Franklin and told him of his love for Anne, the man might tell the truth and let him have an interview.
But the matter took some thinking out. He decided to let it remain in abeyance at present.
After kissing the coin—had it not been Anne's?—he slipped it into his waistcoat-pocket and returned home.
Here a surprise, and not a very agreeable one, awaited him.
He reached his house just in time to dress for dinner, and found a letter, which had been delivered by hand. It was from Olga Karacsay, and announced that she and her mother were stopping at the village inn.
She asked Giles to come over that evening, as she wished to introduce him to the elder Princess.
Ware was vexed that this inopportune visit should have taken place at the moment.
He did not wish to be introduced to Olga's mother, and had more to do than to chatter French to a foreign lady.
However, being naturally a most polite young gentleman, he could not refuse the request, and after dinner proceeded to the village.
Morris, the landlord of
"The Merry Dancer"—which was the name of the inn—was a burly man, and usually extremely self-important.
On this night he excelled himself, and looked as swollen as the frog in the fable.
That two Princesses should stay in his house was an honor which overwhelmed him.
To be sure, they were foreigners, which made a difference; still, they had titles, and plenty of money, and for all Morris knew—as he observed to his flustered wife—might be exiled sovereigns.
Morris received Giles in his best clothes, and bowed himself to the ground.
"Yes, Mr. Ware, their Highnesses are within—on the first floor, Mr. Ware, having engaged a salon and two bedrooms."
"I didn't know you had a salon, Morris!" said Giles, his eyes twinkling.
"For the time being I call it such," replied the landlord grandly. "My daughter is a French scholar, Mr. Ware, and called the sitting-room by that name.
Me and Mrs. Morris and Henrietta Morris wish to make their Highnesses feel at home.
Allow me to conduct you, sir, to the salon of their Highnesses.
The garkong is engaged with the dejune, along with the femmie de chambers, who also waits."
"You are quite a French scholar, Morris."
"Henrietta Morris, my daughter—or I should say, mon filly—has instructed me in the languidge, sir.
This way to the salon, sir," and Morris marshalled the way with the air of a courtier of Louis XIV.
Giles entered the sitting-room, which was pretty and quaint but extremely unpretentious, bubbling over with laughter.
Olga came forward, and catching sight of his face, laughed also as she shook hands with him.
"I see you know the jest," she said.