Frank stared after her, white to the lips with rage and wounded love.
Lady Dinsmore rose briskly to her feet.
"Excuse me. Wait here!" she said, and rustled after her niece.
Frank Doughton paced up and down the room distractedly, momentarily expecting her reappearance. Only a short half-hour ago, with Doris' head upon his breast, he had felt supremely happy; now he was plunged into an abyss of utter wretchedness. What were the contents of that brief note which had affected her so powerfully? Why should she secrete it with such care unless it conveyed a lover's assurance? His foot came into contact with a chair, and he swore under his breath.
The servant, who had entered unobserved, coughed deprecatingly.
"Her ladyship sends her excuses, sir," he said, "and says she will write you later."
He ushered the young man to the outer door.
Upon the top step Frank halted stiffly. He found himself face to face with Poltavo.
The Count greeted him gravely.