“Lord Lionel should be instantly apprised!” declared the Captain, smiting his fist into the palm of his other hand.
Mr. Scriven bowed. “I have already sent one of my clerks with a letter for his lordship, sir.”
“Post, I do trust!” the Captain said swiftly.
“Certainly, sir.”
“Then there is little one can do until his lordship comes to town, as I make no doubt he will do. Yet some enquiries might be made with advantage. I shall at once repair to Captain Ware’s chambers.”
Mr. Scriven was then able to inform him, with a certain amount of satisfaction, that Nettlebed had already called in Albany, and that Captain Ware disclaimed all knowledge of the Duke’s whereabouts. When Chigwell came in, to report that his visit to White’s Club had been equally abortive, there seemed to be nothing left for the Captain to do. He did indeed mention the propriety of summoning the Bow Street Runners to their aid, but was speedily snubbed by Mr. Scriven, who took it upon himself to answer for his lordship’s disliking such an extreme action excessively.
By the time Captain Ware strolled into White’s Club that afternoon, the story of his cousin’s disappearance was forming one of the main topics of conversation there. He was at once pounced upon by Lord Gaywood, who had not yet left London for Bath, whither he was eventually bound. Lord Gaywood, who was inclined to make light of the affair, called across the room: “Hey, Ware, what’s this cock-and-bull story about Sale? Here’s Cliveden saying he ain’t been seen since yesterday morning! Is it a bubble?”
Gideon shrugged his big shoulders. “Gone out of town, I daresay. Why should he not?”
“A trifle smokey, isn’t it?” said Mr. Cliveden, raising one eyebrow. “A man don’t commonly leave town without his valet! By what I hear, none of Sale’s servants knows what has become of him.”
“I see there is a notice of his betrothal to your sister in the papers today, too, Gaywood,” remarked a thin little man by the fire. “Very strange!”