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Wilfred Haven coughed.

"There's no one left to trouble about such things," he explained. "Old Hayes, the Counsellor, is nominally in charge, and he's nothing to do with the diplomatic side of affairs at all. The others are juniors like me, only more so."

"Still, you know, if this comes out, you may be in trouble with your own people," the Prince reminded him wistfully. "It is an absolute contravention of diplomatic usage."

"What can that matter against such a mob as this?" the other scoffed. "Besides, I shall own up and resign as soon as we are safe. I was going to do that, anyway. I want to get into the war. I've had enough of diplomacy."

"You mean that?"

"Word of honour," was the terse but fervent reply.

There was an expression of great relief on Ostrekoff's worn face.

"You have taken a load off my mind," he confessed. "It would be very distressing, both to Catherine and me, if we thought that we had saved the fortunes of our house at the expense of your career."

"You don't need to worry," the young man assured him. "I'm going to be a soldier for the rest of the war, and after that—a banker for the remainder of my life."