"You must have been quick about it," observed Gore, glancing at his watch. "It is barely three o'clock."
"I went at once to make inquiries," said Durham. "Mrs. Gilroy ordered the trap overnight and had her box removed, though how she managed it without the servants at the Hall knowing, I am not prepared to say. But she did, and went to the Postleigh station. There she took a ticket to London. She is lost there now"—here Durham made a gesture of despair—"and goodness knows when we will set eyes on her again."
"I can tell you that," put in Alice, briskly, and both men looked inquiringly at her. "She will reappear when she is able to establish the fact that Michael is the heir."
"Which means that she must prove her own marriage, if there was any—begging your pardon, Miss Malleson—to have taken place prior to that of Walter Gore with Signora Tolomeo."
"My uncle will be able to prove that."
"I'll see him about it, as there is some difficulty in knowing where your parents were married, Bernard. Your father kept the marriage a secret from you grandfather. Afterwards, Sir Simon received your mother at the Hall, and was fairly friendly with her. I don't think he ever became quite reconciled to your father."
"Well! well!" said Bernard, hastily, "let us leave that point alone for the present. What are we to do now?"
"We must have a counsel of war. By the way, Conniston is stopping at the Hall till this evening, Bernard. He will be back at dinner."
Alice smiled. "I think Lord Conniston is enjoying himself."
"You mean with Miss Randolph," said Durham. "I devoutly wish he may take a fancy to that lady——"