"Your first duty is to me. If you go to Southampton, I go with you."
"I'm afraid there'll be an awful row with her ladyship."
"Let there be, then; I don't care!"
"I really think," he expostulated, "that you had better stay here one day more. I'll get you a reprieve from the custody of the butler, and have a try at Southampton myself. There is a cross-line from here, and it won't take any time to run over. I've tracked horse-thieves in Kentucky when I was sheriff, and I guess I can find a bridegroom where it's all open country as it is round here."
At this moment a servant knocked and entered, saying:
"Please, madam, her ladyship's orders is that you are to be ready at seven to-morrow morning, to start with Mr. Bright, the butler, for 'The Towers.'"
"I——!" began Mrs. Scarsdale, rising in wrath and indignation; but before she could further complicate matters by a direct refusal, the footman had turned to Allingford, and, handing him a telegram, had left the room. Forgetful of all else, she rushed to the Consul's side as with nervous fingers he tore it open. What joyful news might it not contain! One look at his face, however, blasted all her hopes. Horror, consternation, and surprise were depicted thereon as he read the despatch. Something dreadful must have happened.
"Tell me the worst!" she cried. "Is it Harold?"
"It is the last straw," he replied.
"Is he dead?"