“Yes, this! How better could I use it than in his service? Take this and give it to Mr. McAndrew. You will find him at Scotland Yard; see, I have written down the address. Telegraph to me, or come back to me with the news; and, oh, Bessie, remember that you and I, two helpless women, are trying to save the life of the man who saved yours, and who is risking his life now to screen some one else!”
Bessie gave a great sob, then set her teeth hard, and hurried from the room.
In half an hour she had reached Carfield Towers and delivered the note. Lord Carfield came out to her, as she was waiting in the brougham.
“Tell your dear mistress, my girl,” he said, sadly, “that I am as ignorant as she is of my son’s whereabouts. Of course, it is on account of Mr. Faradeane and this terrible mystery that she wants him?”
“Yes, my lord,” said Bessie, firmly, “and I will find him and bring him to her, if he is to be found.”
She caught the evening up-train, and though she had never been in London before, she faced its strangeness and its vastness without quailing; it seemed as if Olivia had infused something of her own desperate courage and energy into the timid country girl.
She drove to Scotland Yard, and after five minutes’ waiting, during which, by the way, Mr. McAndrew had been calmly and keenly scrutinizing her from behind a curtain, he entered.
Bessie delivered Olivia’s message, word for word.
He looked at her with the simple smile which made his face so innocent and commonplace, then nodded.
“So your mistress wants to see Lord Bertie, does she?” he said, in a kindly fashion. “Hem! so do I; and perhaps we shall both see him presently. What’s this?” he asked, as Bessie put the necklace-case in his hand.