"Martin wouldn't give him a stitch," continued Haynes triumphantly, "not as much as a pocket-handkerchief; she said she didn't believe a word he said—and I know myself, that I've caught him out in awful lies! However, he went and helped himself to a coat out of the hall—one of yours, I think—took most of Sir Dudley's luggage, and went off with the car about ten o'clock: all the men saw him—! Here, wait a second, and I'll get a drop of brandy; keep up, my dear lady, and don't faint if you can help it, and Mrs. De Wolfe did keep up,—although she looked like death.
"I'm too old for these shocks, Haynes," she muttered, after a long silence, "I thought I was hardened! I suppose so far, this story is only known downstairs."
"That's all, ma'am; and I needn't tell you, that not one of the servants would breathe it."
The tale was nevertheless stealing through the house. Mrs. Speyde heard it from her maid; and was at first rudely incredulous. After taking two or three turns up and down the room, she said, "Wait a moment, I'll not undress yet—I've forgotten something downstairs."
"Can't I fetch it, ma'am?"
"No!" waving her back, "I know where it is myself!"
She went softly out along the corridor, and stood looking over the balustrade into the great lounge. Mayne was the only individual below—the other men were assembled in the smoking-room—suddenly he glanced up, and beheld Josie in her flame-coloured garment, drifting down the stairs. She paused half-way, and beckoned to him.
"Derek, I've something to tell you," she whispered, as she halted on the lowest step. Glancing round, she leant forward, and said: "Something dreadful has happened!—Dudley and Nancy have run away to Paris!"
Mayne stood very still—he might have been a stone.
"His own car, and chauffeur have gone to meet them with their luggage—what a terrible blow for the old lady!"