"Will you be ready to come with me to London to-morrow?"
"Yes; I shall be glad to get out of Marshely, where I have been so miserable. Only I wish I knew where Mrs. Vand is, poor soul."
Cyril passed over the reference to Mrs. Vand, as he was weary of discussing that unfortunate woman. "There's a chum of mine got a motor," said the young man. "I wrote and asked him for the loan of it. He brought it down last night, and it is safely bestowed in the stables of 'The Chequers.' To-morrow at nine o'clock let us start off with your boxes——"
"And Dora?"
"No," said Cyril, very decidedly. "Dora can remain with Pence, whom she probably will marry. We will go to London and get married at a registry office in the afternoon, and then cross to Paris for our honeymoon. I haven't much money, Miss Rothschild, but I have enough for that. In our own happiness let us forget all our troubles."
"I'll come," said Bella with a sigh. "After all, we can do nothing. By the way, Cyril, what about Durgo's things?"
"Well it's odd you should mention that. He evidently thought that something might happen to him on that night, for he left a note behind him saying that if he did not return they were to be given to me. So I have shifted them long since to my lodgings. There they lie packed up, and ready to be taken away in our motor to-morrow."
"Cyril, you have been arranging this for some time?"
"Well, I have. It's the only way of getting you to leave this place, and you will always be miserable while you remain here."
"I only stayed in the hope that poor Mrs. Vand might return, and then I would be able to comfort her. Oh! how I wish Durgo with his occult powers was here to help us."