The days of convalescence were few, for the vigorous strength of the patient had not been sapped to any great extent. They were days of happiness, however, for all who lived in Castle Craneycrow. Dickey and Lady Jane solemnly and somewhat defiantly approached Lord Bob on a very important matter. He solemnly and discreetly gave his consent, and Dickey promised to be very, very good to her so long as he lived. One day a real priest, Father Bivot, came to the castle gates to solicit alms for the poor of the neighborhood. He was admitted, refreshed and made glad by a single donation that surpassed in size the combined contributions of a whole valley. It was from him that they learned, with no little uneasiness of mind, that the body of Courant had been found, and that it had been identified by the Luxemburg authorities. The cause of his death was a mystery that defied solution, however.
The news that Courant had been found and identified made Quentin all the more eager to carry out his design to restore Dorothy to her mother. He knew, and all knew, that it was but a question of a few days until Ugo and the police would put two and two together and come racing into the valley, certain that Courant had been killed by the abductors of Dorothy Garrison.
One morning, therefore, shortly after the visit of Father Bivot, he asked Lord Saxondale for the use of a conveyance, announcing his intention to drive with Dorothy to the nearest railway station. There was dismay in the heart of everyone who sat at what had been a cheerful breakfast table. Quentin deliberately went on to say that he would take no lackey, preferring to expose none but himself in the undertaking.
“Can you be ready in an hour, Dorothy?” he asked, after Saxondale had reluctantly consented.
“Do you insist on carrying out this Quixotic plan, Phil?” she asked, after a long pause.
“Positively.”
“Then, I can be ready in half an hour,” she said, leaving the table abruptly.
“Confound it, Phil; she'd rather stay here,” said Dickey, miserably.
“I intend to restore her to her mother, just the same. There's no use discussing it, Dickey. If they don't throw me into jail at Brussels, I may return in a day or two.”
There was a faint flush in Dorothy's cheeks as she bade good-bye to the party. Lady Saxondale sagely remarked, as the trap rolled out of sight among the trees below the castle, that the flush was product of resentment, and Dickey offered to wager £20 that she would be an engaged girl before she reached Brussels.