“Yes, Sire, I am prepared to say that I was too hasty in my judgment. But I too would like to see the picture again and to make quite certain that Dorrington is not being overoptimistic. And now, Sire, what about a visit to somewhere gay and amusing, where the Venuses are beguiling and there is gaming for those who prefer it?”

The Prince of Wales shook his head.

“Such places have no appeal for me these days.”

There was a smile on the lips of his guests. It was known to them that the Prince of Wales was beseeching Mrs. Fitzherbert to return to him after the total failure of his disastrous marriage.

He had broken with Lady Jersey and their liaison was at an end as far as he was concerned. But that determined lady was not easily put off and she still pestered him.

His Royal Highness was however wooing Mrs. Fitzherbert ardently and frantically. At times he worked himself into such a frenzy that his friends feared that he might be near to losing his reason.

“Then, if you will not accompany us, Sire, will you be generous enough to excuse us?” Lord Worcester suggested.

“Of course,” the Prince replied. “Enjoy yourselves, the night is still young.”

“It is indeed,” Lord Alvanley said. “Are you also retiring early, Dorrington?”

“I may join you later,” Lord Dorrington replied vaguely.

The Prince of Wales’s guests made their farewells. It was obvious that they were eager to be off in search of new amusements and for two of them at least their fingers were itching for the feel of the cards.

As soon as they had gone, Lord Dorrington picked up the picture again and, after looking at it for some moments, commented,

“I am sure I am not mistaken. It was clever of you, Sire, to recognise a masterpiece in spite of its condition.”

“I was sure I was right,” the Prince of Wales said with satisfaction. “It had a terrible frame, chipped and broken, which I left behind in the shop. The man could not remember where he bought it, he thought at some country sale.”

“There must be a wealth of treasures to be found in such places,” Lord Dorrington murmured, “if only one had more time to attend them.”

“I knew I was right!” the Prince of Wales trumpeted again. “But the others were so positive, I began to feel that after all I had been mistaken.”

“Always trust your own instincts, Sire,” Lord Dorrington remarked.

“My instinct is usually right, is it not?” he enquired.

“Almost inevitably, Sire.”

Lord Dorrington looked at the Prince of Wales speculatively before saying,

“Tell me, what do you feel, Sire, when you find something that you are sure in your heart is a treasure and yet its external appearance makes you inclined to question your own instinct?”

“That is an interesting question,” the Prince of Wales replied. “I think it’s a feeling of awareness. Perhaps one has a tingling at the end of one’s fingers, I am not sure.”