“In other words, my brother is the ringleader—is that so?”
“I think his lordship is the only one of the whole crew who has any pluck,” was the response. “He was in the chair when the thing was decided on.”
The Duke of Trent drew his lips together.
“Do you know where to find him?”
“I have men watching them all. Lord Alistair has stayed indoors all day.” The Chief Commissioner hesitated, and then went on. “Your Grace will excuse me if I refer to a private matter which perhaps you would wish to hear at once. Lady Alistair has deserted his lordship—eloped, in fact, with Mr. Mendes, the millionaire.”
The Duke looked up, startled.
“When did that happen?”
“Yesterday, I understand. She did not come home last night. His lordship has been alone all day.”
James Stuart fell into a brown study. The news he had just heard was both good and bad. It was a relief to know that he would not remain much longer the brother-in-law of Molly Finucane; but on the other hand he saw his brother resuming the position of a rival for the hand of Hero Vanbrugh. With the cold obstinacy of his nature, James still clung persistently to the belief that sooner or later he would obtain the woman on whom he had set his heart—or what he deemed to be his heart. But now the obstacle that had stood between Hero and his brother had been removed, and unless he could replace it by another, even his dull mind could perceive how things were likely to go.
He fixed his eyes once more upon his official subordinate.