What a terrible blow for Mayne! This was the second time that Nancy had, so to speak, made him to pass through fire. How false, how treacherous, was that young, and innocent face!
As Mayne remained speechless, Josie continued: "So still waters run deep—not that Nancy was ever very still. Although he is my own cousin, I always knew, that Dudley was a bad lot; a regular rotter! but as for the girl, I must confess I'm surprised.—Aren't you?"
"I am," he assented, in a strange dry voice, "surprised in one way, but not in another. It's not the first time, that Miss Travers has run away."
Josie opened her great black eyes, to their widest extent.
"And you knew all about it—so that is the secret between you!" but Mayne made no reply, and to her great astonishment, walked across the hall, snatched his cap from a peg, opened the great door, and went out.
At this moment, the sound of loud and jovial voices approaching, warned her, that the smoking-room party were about to disperse, so she turned about, ran lightly up the stairs, and disappeared into her own apartment. As for Mayne, he went round into the stable-yard, where men were still hanging about: one of the neighbours had not yet taken his departure; he noticed a group of two or three grooms, and a couple of white-capped women in close conference,—they looked like a gang of conspirators. The doors of the great garage had not been closed, and as the moon made everything as bright as day, he saw, that Sir Dudley's big Mercédès had vanished!
As she had prognosticated, Mrs. De Wolfe never slept that night. She looked a wrinkled old wreck, when Haynes brought her her early tea; nevertheless this Spartan matron, insisted upon getting up and having herself dressed as usual. In spite of Haynes' expostulations, she declared, "I'll go down to breakfast, if it costs me my life! The people upstairs know nothing: so far no one knows the truth, except the servants, and I feel sure that they will keep this terrible matter to themselves. All my guests will have departed by twelve o'clock, and then I shall take to my bed. You may call it a chill, or whatever you like, but I depend upon you, to allow no one to come near me."
The old lady's voice was unusually weak: her hands, as she put on her rings, trembled alarmingly. At last she was ready, and just as she was about to leave her room, a familiar figure came flying along the passage, with outstretched hands.
"Nancy!"
"Here I am at last!" she gasped out, "and so dreadfully, dreadfully, sorry, to have tortured you—darling Auntie," embracing her as she spoke.