"Now, Frank," she said, cheerily, indicating a chair opposite, "sit down, and let us take counsel together. And first of all,"—she pressed the girl's cold hand—"let me speak my strongest conviction. Gregory is not dead. Something tells me that he is safe and well."
Doris turned her eyes to the young man wistfully. "You have heard something—later?" she asked.
He shook his head. "There has been no time for fresh developments yet. Scotland Yard is in charge of the affair, and T. B. Smith has been put upon the case."
She shuddered and covered her face with her hands.
"He said he was going to arrest him—how strange and ghastly it all is!" she whispered. "I—I cannot get it out of my head. The dark river—my poor uncle—I can see him there—" She broke off.
Lady Dinsmore looked helplessly across to the young man.
It was at that moment that a servant brought a letter.
Lady Dinsmore arched her eyebrows significantly. "Poltavo!" she murmured.
Doris darted forward and took the letter from the salver. She broke the seal and tore out the contents, and seemed to comprehend the message at a glance. A little cry of joy escaped her. Her face, which had been pale, flushed a rosy hue. She bent to read it again, her lips parted. Her whole aspect breathed hope and assurance. She folded the note, slipped it into her bosom, and, without a word, walked from the room.