Cayley-Binns' late husband had lent him money, and he had been so
grateful that she had always felt entitled to speak of him openly as
"dear cousin Morton, the great physician, you know, whom all the
royalties love." She wrote promptly and begged him for a letter of
introduction to Miss Sutfield, who was living above the lower levels of
Mentone, at the Annonciata. The letter came and was sent to Miss
Sutfield, after Mrs. Cayley-Binns had increased her expenses at the
Hotel Victoria Palace, by taking better rooms and a private salon. She
had heard it said that the lady inquired of hall porters, before
presenting her visiting cards, on which floor were the apartments of her
would-be acquaintances, and whether they had their own sitting-room.
Miss Sutfield, who always talked of the princess (now a queen) whom she
had governed as "dear little Mousie," called in her most stately manner
upon Sir Morton's cousins. She was chilling at first, icily regular as
"Maud" herself, using the full power of that invaluable manner which had
kept Mousie hypnotized for years, both as princess and queen. The cold
museum of her memory, full of stately echoings from palaces of kings,
was opened for the Cayley-Binns' benefit as show-houses are thrown open
to the humble public. She wore a majesty of air which, to the
Cayley-Binns and others who had never "been to court" or to country
house parties except in the pages of Society novels, seemed peculiarly
distinctive of the peerage.
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