"I've nothing to say against the fellow," he remarked, "except that it seems queer nowadays to run up against a man of his birth who is not a sportsman,--in the sense of being fond of sport, Imean," he corrected himself quickly.
"Sometimes I wonder," Penelope said thoughtfully, "whether such speeches as the one which you have just made do not indicate something totally wrong in our modern life. You, for instance, have no profession, Charlie, and you devote your life to a systematic course of what is nothing more or less than pleasure-seeking. You hunt or you shoot, you play polo or golf, you come to town or you live in the country, entirely according to the seasons. If any one asked you why you had not chosen a profession, you would as good as tell them that it was because you were a rich man and had no need to work for your living. That is practically what it comes to. You Englishmen work only if you need money. If you do not need money, you play. The Prince is wealthy, but his profession was ordained for him from the moment when he left the cradle. The end and aim of his life is to serve his country, and I believe that he would consider it sacrilege if he allowed any slighter things to divert at any time his mind from its main purpose. He would feel like a priest who has broken his ordination vows.""That's all very well," Somerfield said coolly, "but there's nothing in life nowadays to make us quite so strenuous as that.""Isn't there?" Penelope answered. "You are an Englishman, and you should know. Are you convinced, then, that your country today is at the height of her prosperity, safe and sound, bound to go on triumphant, prosperous, without the constant care of her men?"Somerfield looked up at her in growing amazement.
"What on earth's got hold of you, Penelope?" he asked. "Have you been reading the sensational papers, or stuffing yourself up with jingoism, or what?"She laughed.
"None of those things, I can assure you," she said. "A man like the Prince makes one think, because, you see, every standard of life we have is a standard of comparison. When one sees the sort of man he is, one wonders. When one sees how far apart he is from you Englishmen in his ideals and the way he spends his life, one wonders again.
Somerfield shrugged his shoulders.
"We do well enough," he said. "Japan is the youngest of the nations. She has a long way to go to catch us up.""We do well enough!" she repeated under her breath. "There was a great city once which adopted that as her motto,--people dig up mementoes of her sometimes from under the sands."Somerfield looked at her in an aggrieved fashion.
"Well," he said, "I thought that this was to be an amusing luncheon party.""You should have talked more to Lady Grace," she answered. "I am sure that she is quite ready to believe that you are perfection, and the English army the one invincible institution in the world.
You mustn't take me too seriously today, Charlie. I have a headache, and I think that it has made me dull." . . .
They trooped out into the foyer in irregular fashion to take their coffee. The Prince and Penelope were side by side.
"What I like about your restaurant life," the Prince said, "is the strange mixture of classes which it everywhere reveals.""Those two, for instance," Penelope said, and then stopped short.
The Prince followed her slight gesture. Inspector Jacks and Dr.
Spencer Whiles were certainly just a little out of accord with their surroundings. The detective's clothes were too new and his companion's too old. The doctor's clothes indeed were as shabby as his waiting room, and he sat where the sunlight was merciless.
"How singular," the Prince remarked with a smile, "that you should have pointed those two men out! One of them I know, and, if you will excuse me for a moment, I should like to speak to him."Penelope was not capable of any immediate answer. The Prince, with a kindly and yet gracious smile, walked over to Inspector Jacks, who rose at once to his feet.
"I hope you have quite recovered, Mr. Inspector," the Prince said, holding out his hand in friendly fashion. "I have felt very guilty over your indisposition. I am sure that I keep my rooms too close for English people.""Thank you, Prince," the Inspector answered, "I am perfectly well again. In fact, I have not felt anything of my little attack since."The Prince smiled.
"I am glad," he said. "Next time you are good enough to pay me a visit, I will see that you do not suffer in the same way."He nodded kindly and rejoined his friends. The Inspector resumed his seat and busied himself with relighting his cigar. He purposely did not even glance at his companion.
"Who was that?" the doctor asked curiously. "Did you call him Prince?"Inspector Jacks sighed. This was a disappointment to him!
"His name is Prince Maiyo," he said slowly. "He is a Japanese.
The doctor looked across the restaurant with puzzled face.
"It's queer," he said, "how all these Japanese seem to one to look so much alike, and yet--"He broke off in the middle of his sentence.
"You are thinking of your friend of the other night?" the Inspector remarked.
"I was," the doctor admitted. "For a moment it seemed to me like the same man with a different manner."Inspector Jacks was silent. He puffed steadily at his cigar.
"You don't suppose," he asked quietly, "that it could have been the same man?"The doctor was still looking across the room.
"I could not tell," he said. "I should like to see him again. Iwasn't prepared, and there was something so altered in his tone and the way he carried himself. And yet--"The pause was expressive. Inspector Jacks' eyes brightened. He hated to feel that his day had been altogether wasted.
