"Mr. and Miss Lisle have gone and left no address."
He walked from the post office to Grosvenor Square with the telegram crushed in his hand, and went straight to the duke's room. He was still lying on the couch, and he did not lift his head as Yorke entered.
"Well?" he said. "But I need not ask. You are convinced?"
Yorke flattened out the telegram and dropped it into the duke's hand.
"No address! Here in London, and I do not know where to look for her!" he said hoarsely.
"Convinced! No! No!"
Then his voice broke, and he sank into the chair by the table and dropped his head upon his arms.
The duke sighed.
"My poor Yorke! Oh, woman, woman! God sent you as a blessing, and you have proved a curse!"