"Yes, sir; all right, sir."
"You look tired, poor fellow," said Vaura, sympathetically, as they were driven to Park Lane.
"Tired, yes, waiting for you. God only knows how I have missed you, darling."
"How about the nun you spoke of in your letter, Lionel?" inquired Lady
Esmondet, "will she aid you? What a long story you have to tell us."
"Yes, and one until lately I had will nigh forgotten, for in spite of Dame Rumour's falseness I have not been the principal actor in it. For to-night only does she triumph, ere, to-morrow's sun has set I hope to be at or very near Haughton Hall with those who will lift the veil from the past, and put in Dame Rumour's hands another version of the scandal."
"We shall have a long evening together, Lionel; you can stay with us,
I suppose."
"Only until I see you comfortably settled, dear Lady Esmondet, in still untangling the web of 'difficulty,'" and Vaura's hand is pressed. "I have a twelve-mile drive in a suburban train to the monastery of St. Sebastian."
"Nuns and monks, the denouement will be interesting," said Vaura.
"Will they win, that's the question; the other hand is full of knaves and tricks," said Lady Esmondet.
"They shall," answered Lionel, earnestly, and holding Vaura's hand, "I hold a hand that gives me strength to win."