“Excellent!” Despencer murmured to himself. “She has come off with flying colors.”
“Engaged to a pauper!” the marchioness exclaimed, tragically. “And, pray, what do you propose to live on?”
“Oh, that is quite settled,” her daughter answered. “I have arranged to open a milliner’s shop in Piccadilly.”
“I thought everybody in London knew that,” remarked Despencer heartlessly.
It was the stab of Brutus. The marchioness turned a look on the traitor that should have rooted him to the floor.
“Mis-ter De-spencer!”
“Yes, marchioness?”
There had been a sound of wheels below. A carriage had driven up to the door. Captain Mauleverer had not been idle during the hour which had elapsed since his departure. Footsteps ascended the staircase; the door leading into an adjoining room was opened and shut. Then—
“The Marquis of Severn!”
As the marquis entered the room which his wife and daughter were in already, Hammond took a step forward, looking very pale and determined. Lady Victoria drew quietly towards a window, followed by Despencer. The marchioness, standing in the centre of the room, addressed her husband: