Through the open doors of the two bedchambers came a
faint glimpse of snow-white linen, a perfume reminiscent at once of
almond blossom, green tea, and crushed lavender, and in the little room
beyond glistened a silver bath. Already attired for the voyage, his
pilot stood on the threshold.
"Is all well, your Highness?" he asked.
"Everything is in order," Prince Shan replied. "Ching Su is a perfect
steward."
"The reverend gentleman is in his room, your Highness," the pilot went
on. "All the supplies have arrived, and the crew are at their stations.
At what hour will it please your Highness to start?"
Prince Shan looked through the open window, along the wooden platform,
out to the broad stretch of road which led to London.
"I announced the hour of my departure as six o'clock," he replied. "I
cannot leave before in case of any farewell message. Is the woman of
whom I spoke to you here?"
"She is in attendance, your Highness."
"She understands that she will not be required unless my other passenger
should desire to accompany us?"
"She understands perfectly, your Highness."
Prince Shan stepped through his private exit on to the narrow wooden
platform. Already the mighty engines had started, purring softly but
deeply, like the deep-throated murmurings of a giant soon to break into
a roar. It was a light, silvery morning, with hidden sunshine
everywhere. On the other side of the vast amphitheatre of flat,
cinder-covered ground, the Downs crept upwards, rolling away to the
blue-capped summit of a distant range of hills.
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