“Take care, please,” he said, with a smothered yawn. “That cabinet is unique, and I have left it to you.”
She made an impatient gesture, caught up poor Doris’ letter, and glided from the room and up the corridor.
As she did so Lord Cecil came out of his room, followed by his valet, with a portmanteau in his hand, and wrap on his arm.
“Lady Grace!” said Lord Cecil.
“Why, where are you going?” she exclaimed. “I have only just heard of your return! You are not going again?”
“Yes,” he said, trying to speak lightly, and force a conventional smile; “I am as bad as a queen’s messenger.”
She laid her hand lightly on his arm.
“Something’s the matter,” she said, in a low voice. “What is it? Is it anything you can tell me—anything I can help you in?”
He shook his head as he signed to his man to go on.
“I have learned bad news, Lady Grace,” he said, as coolly as he could, but his voice shook as he added, “No, you cannot help me, and, I fear, no one can!”