Excepting some of the servants, there was no one about, they had all gone to their dressing-rooms, and he went up the stairs in silence and uninterrupted. With bent head and dragging step, for the long vigil and hours of excitement had told upon him, he stood before Lilian's room. It was worthy of notice that in this awful coming back of his he went to her first, as a matter of course, and knocking gently, went in.
It was dark, and the lamp was burning softly, but she, accustomed to the dim light, saw plainly that something had happened.
"Leycester!" she exclaimed. "Why—how is this, dear? Where have you been all day and all last night? You did not come to me and——" she stopped as he sat down beside her and put his hand upon her head. The hand was burning hot, his face was white and haggard and worn, and yet in some way strangely peaceful, with a far-away, dreamy expression upon it—"Leycester, where have you been?"
He bent and kissed her.
"Lil," he said, and there was a great peace in his voice though it was weary and husky, "you will be a brave good girl while I tell you!"
"Ah, Leycester!" was all she murmured.
"Well, Lil, I have found her—I have got her back—my poor Stella."
Her hand closed on his, and her delicate face went white as ivory.
"Got her back!"
"Yes," he said, in low tones. "I have found out the mystery—no, not I. It was solved for me by a mightier hand than any human one—by Death, Lil."