The young mother started. She had been in a deep reverie about the present condition of her child, and had not heard her distinctly.
Anna repeated her question.
“Yes; I shall send in my card,” she said.
“And shall you see him?”
“That shall be as he pleases. Here is the card that I have prepared to send in to him,” she continued, taking from her gold case a small envelope directed to Lord Killcrichtoun, and drawing from it her card, bearing the name, “Mrs. Alexander Lyon,” and the pencilled lines, “Only tell me little Lenny is with you and is safe and I will thank and bless you.” “I shall send that up. He can reply to it by a pencilled line, or a verbal message, or he can come down and see me, as he wills,” said Drusilla.
“Drusa, you have thought of everything; you have prepared for every emergency. But maternal love is a great sharpener of the wits, I suppose,” said Anna.
“It confers a sixth sense I sometimes think, Anna,” she replied.
When they reached the splendid palace in the West End known as Mivart’s Hotel, the ladies alighted, and were shown into an elegant reception room, where they sat down.
Drusilla then called a hall waiter, gave him her enveloped card, and directed him to take it at once to Lord Killcrichtoun.
“Lord Killcrichtoun is not in town, madam,” replied the man.