“Acquainted—oh yes; but I give Rudolph credit for more sense and more truthfulness than to renew their friendship.”
The Countess pondered with a very grave expression upon her face, while Alicia gently wiped her eyes and ardently wished that her honest Rudolph was here to defend his character and refute these baseless insinuations. At length her mother said with a brisker air—
“Ah! I know exactly what we must do. I shall make a point of seeing Sir Justin Wallingford tomorrow.”
“Sir Justin Wallingford!”
“If anybody can obtain private information for us he can. We shall soon learn whether the Baron has been sent to Russia.”
Alicia uttered a cry of protest. Sir Justin, ex-diplomatist, author of a heavy volume of Victorian reminiscences, and confidant of many public personages, was one of her mother's oldest friends; but to her he was only one degree less formidable than the Countess, and quite the last person she would have chosen for consultation upon this, or indeed upon any other subject.
“I am not going to intrust my husband's secrets to him!” she exclaimed.
“I am,” replied the Countess.
“But I won't allow it! Rudolph would be——”
“Rudolph has only himself to blame. My dear Alicia, you can trust Sir Justin implicitly. When my child's happiness is at stake I would consult no one who was not discretion itself. I am very glad I thought of him.”