Part 12

"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 simplest 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.

And at this point it occurred to the Prince, who being really a great man, had naturally a sense of humour, that a conference conducted on these lines between the leading statesman of an Empire and an impertinent hussy of, say, twelve years old at the outside, might end by becoming ridiculous. So the Prince took up his chair and put it down again beside Tommy's, and employing skilfully his undoubted diplomatic gifts, drew from her bit by bit the whole story.

"I'm inclined, Miss Jane," said the Great Man, the story ended, "to agree with our friend Mr. Hope. I should say your metier was journalism."

"And you'll let me interview you?" asked Tommy, showing her white teeth.

The Great Man, laying a hand heavier than he guessed on Tommy's shoulder, rose. "I think you are entitled to it."

"What's your views?" demanded Tommy, reading, "of the future political and social relationships--"

"Perhaps," suggested the Great Man, "it will be simpler if I write it myself."

"Well," concurred Tommy; "my spelling is a bit rocky."

The Great Man drew a chair to the table.

"You won't miss out anything--will you?" insisted Tommy.

"I shall endeavour, Miss Jane, to give you no cause for complaint," gravely he assured her, and sat down to write.