Meantime, what had not that audacious Albert ventured! The rapid and indignant pace at which he had sought to put as much space as possible between the offending Marie-Celeste and himself had brought him in a trice to the foot of the double flight of steps that ascend from the garden to the terrace. And what more natural, when you find yourself at the foot of a flight of steps, than to walk up them, no matter if the place does chance to be Windsor Castle; and then if at the top you find an open door confronting you, what more natural than to walk in, particularly if there happens to be no one to say you nay, and you have half a mind, besides, to seek an audience of the Queen, and report the ungracious conduct of an ungracious little American, who has been unworthily permitted to tread the paths of the royal garden. A few moments later he was bounding down the stone stairway, flying toward Marie-Celeste with the breathless announcement: “She wants us to come in.”