[CHAPTER XLVI.]
HETTY LEARNS SOMETHING.
A search was being made for the fugitives in every place but the right one. The railings of the square were high, so that it never occurred to any one that the culprits might have escaped that way. They had got off somehow. In the opinion of most of the people there they had stopped the motor and started it again on its headlong course, after which they had mingled with the crowd.
Gradually Lytton Avenue grew quiet again. Leona Lalage stood up so that the light of a lamp outside showed her up in a ghastly fashion. She had lost her fair wig somewhere, her face was all cut and bleeding, her left ankle was painfully sprained.
"Do I look very dreadful?" she asked.
"Your face is all cut about," Balmayne growled. "I should think that you will not be able to show up in society for some time to come."
Leona Lalage thought little about that. She had about her those who were skilful in the way of paint and powder. An artist in face treatment would remove all traces of those cuts in a short time. What she was most anxious to do now was to find herself at home. Those nerves were coming back again.
"Let us get in," she said hoarsely. "A cold bath, to say nothing of a deep, deep drink. I want brandy, a lot of brandy, and soda water. Is the coast clear?"
The coast was clear apparently, and the two culprits crept out. They reached the house at length and tried the door. It was fast! The Countess shook her hands passionately.