Hylda rose to her feet, still keeping hold of Faith’s hand. “Go back to Hamley and wait there,” she said, in a colourless voice. “You can do nothing; it may be I can do much. Whatever can be done I can do, since England will not act. Pray for his safety. It is all you can do. It is given to some to work, to others to pray. I must work now.”
She led Faith towards the door; she could not endure more; she must hold herself firm for the journey and the struggle before her. If she broke down now she could not go forward; and Faith’s presence roused in her an emotion almost beyond control.
At the door she took both of Faith’s hands in hers, and kissed her cheek. “It is your place to stay; you will see that it is best. Good-bye,” she added hurriedly, and her eyes were so blurred that she could scarcely see the graceful, demure figure pass into the sunlit street.
That afternoon Lord Windlehurst entered the Duchess of Snowdon’s presence hurried and excited. She started on seeing his face.
“What has happened?” she asked breathlessly. “She is gone,” he answered. “Our girl has gone to Egypt.”
The Duchess almost staggered to her feet. “Windlehurst—gone!” she gasped.
“I called to see her. Her ladyship had gone into the country, the footman said. I saw the butler, a faithful soul, who would die—or clean the area steps—for her. He was discreet; but he knew what you and I are to her. It was he got the tickets—for Marseilles and Egypt.”
The Duchess began to cry silently. Big tears ran down a face from which the glow of feeling had long fled, but her eyes were sad enough.
“Gone—gone! It is the end!” was all she could say. Lord Windlehurst frowned, though his eyes were moist. “We must act at once. You must go to Egypt, Betty. You must catch her at Marseilles. Her boat does not sail for three days. She thought it went sooner, as it was advertised to do. It is delayed—I’ve found that out. You can start to-night, and—and save the situation. You will do it, Betty?”
“I will do anything you say, as I have always done.” She dried her eyes.