"You may go now," answered Lady Belgrade.
And the girl withdrew.
The Duke of Hereward and Lady Belgrade were once more left alone together.
Again their eyes met in anxious scrutiny.
"What do you think now, Duke?" inquired her ladyship.
"I think the disappearance of the duchess is connected with the visit of that strange woman. She may have been an unfortunate beggar, who, with some story of extreme distress, so worked upon Salome's sympathies as to draw her away from home, to see for herself, and give relief to the sufferers. Or—I shudder to think of it—she may have been a thief, or the companion of thieves, and with just such a story, decoyed the duchess out for purposes of plunder. This does not certainly seem to be a probable theory of the disappearance, but it does really seem the only possible one," concluded the duke, in a grave voice.
And though he spoke calmly, his soul was shaken with a terrible anxiety that every moment now increased.
"But is it at all likely that Salome, even with all her excessive benevolence, could have been induced to leave her home at such a time as this, even at the most distressing call of charity? Would she not have given money and sent a servant?" inquired Lady Belgrade.
"Under normal conditions she would have done as you say. But remember, dear madam, that Salome is not in a normal condition. Remember that it is but three months since she suffered an almost fatal nervous shock in the discovery of her father's murdered body on her own wedding morning. Remember that it is scarcely six weeks since her recovery from the nearly fatal brain fever that followed—if indeed she has ever fully recovered. I do not believe that she has, or that she will until I shall have taken her abroad, when total change of scene, with time and distance, may restore her," sighed the duke.
"I thought she was looking very well for the last few weeks," said Lady Belgrade.