And then she laughed, and Reggie knew that he had made no mistake. She was the soubrette of the Variétés. The laugh of Mile Ducher was unforgettable. "I am a great artist, sir, am I not?"
Hilda Crowland smiled at her. "Monsieur is a friend of yours, Alice?" she said in English.
"All in good time. Only an admirer at present, darling." She gave Reggie a glance which was not the least childish.
"I dare to hope," Reggie said, and again she laughed.
They were alongside the yacht. The ladies were handed to the gangway, and Reggie went up it close on their heels. There seemed to be a deputation waiting for them on deck, a middle-aged deputation which, on the coming of the girls, bared its grey and bald heads. Two men stood out from it who lifted their caps, but put them on again, one a young fellow of a sprightly air, the other grey and grave, with a certain assured stateliness. At him Alice made a saucy curtsy. He came forward and took Hilda Crowland's hand. "My dear child," he said in English, "be very welcome," and he kissed her on both cheeks.
She flushed faintly. "I do not understand you, sir." She withdrew herself.
"I present to you your cousin, the Comte de Spoleto." The young man smiled at her and kissed her hand. The elder man turned to the others.
