"Oh, yes, yes! but before you go, promise me! You will write every day?"
"Every day, my angel," said the viscount, bowing over her hand, before he withdrew from the room.
His preparations were soon made. Old Cuthbert performed the duties of valet. And punctually at twelve o'clock the viscount took leave of his evil demon and her chaperon and departed for Banff, where he took the coach to Aberdeen, at which place he arrived in time to catch the night train up to London.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE COUNTESS OF HURSTMONCEUX.
The beauteous woe that charms like faded light,
The cheek so pure that knows no youthful bloom,
Well suiteth her dark brow and forehead white,
And in the sad endurance of her eye
Is all that love believes of woman's majesty.
—Elliott.
In the meantime Lady Vincent reached Banff. She drove at once to the principal hotel, where she engaged a room into which her luggage was carried. With a gratuity to the coachman who had driven her she dismissed the carriage, which returned immediately to the castle.
Then she ordered a fly and drove to the police station—at that time a mean little stone edifice, exceedingly repulsive without and excessively filthy within.
A crowd of disreputable-looking ragamuffins of both sexes and all ages obstructed the entrance. Surely it was a revolting scene to one of Lady Vincent's fastidious nature and refined habits. But she did not shrink from her duty. She made her way through this disgusting assemblage, and found just within the door a policeman, to whom she said:
"I wish, if you please, to see your inspector."