“Mr. Vanderpole,” the Prince answered, “has met with an accident,—a somewhat serious one, I fear. Perhaps,” he added, “it would be as well, after all, to break this to the Duchess. I was forgetting the prejudices of your country. She will doubtless wish that our party should be broken up.”
Penelope was suddenly very white. He whispered in her ear.
“Be brave,” he said. “It is your part.”
She stood still for a moment, and then moved on. His words had had a curious effect upon her. The buzzing in her ears had ceased; there was something to be done—she must do it! She passed into the box, the door of which the attendant was holding open.
“Duchess,” she said, “I am so sorry, but I am afraid that something has happened to Dicky. If you do not mind, I am going to ask Sir Charles to take me home.”
“But my dear child!” the Duchess exclaimed.
“Miss Morse is quite right,” the Prince said quietly. “I think it would be better for her to leave at once. If you will allow me, I will explain to you later.”
She left the box without another word, and took Somerfield’s arm.
“We two are to go,” she murmured. “The Prince will explain to the Duchess.”
The Prince closed the box door behind them. He placed a chair for the Duchess so that she was not in view of the house.