To be precise, it was on Monday, the fourteenth day of July, that the climax came. Max had left me soon after lunch to ride in the Park with the Princess Ottilie. I was on duty that afternoon, so was unable, even had I desired to do so, to accompany them. Indeed, it was after six o'clock before I returned to my house, where I expected to find Max awaiting me. To my surprise, however, he was not there.
"Has not the Crown Prince returned?" I inquired of Felix, my imperturbable groom of the chambers.
"His Royal Highness left the house nearly an hour and a half ago," the man replied. "I thought your Highness was aware of his intention to leave London."
"To leave London!" I cried in astonishment. "What do you mean? What reason have you for supposing that he has left London?"
I was certain that he had not the least intention of doing so when we had lunched together.
"His Royal Highness gave me to understand that he intended paying a visit to their Majesties in the country," the man replied apologetically.
This sudden and entirely unexpected action on Max's part was inexplicable to me. Could he have proposed to the Princess, and had she refused him? I was still turning this problem over in my mind, when a letter, balanced against the inkstand on my writing table, attracted my attention. It was addressed to myself, and the handwriting was quite familiar to me. To pick it up and open it was the work of a moment.