"I don't want publicity and fuss if it can be avoided," Cicely said doubtfully. "Cousin Arthur's rigid sense of justice, makes him declare with unwavering obstinacy that it is a case for the police, the whole police, and nothing but the police. But being an ordinary silly, fluffy, little woman, I have the ordinary woman's horror of the law."
"You are so entirely typical of the silly, fluffy woman," Rupert said drily, but looking at his cousin with affectionate, laughing eyes. "However, without bringing the majesty of the law to bear upon the theft, or rather supposed theft—for I don't myself believe in it—there is no reason why Scotland Yard should not help us to find Miss Moore. Perhaps I can induce Sir Arthur to hold his hand for the present about the accusation against her. He must be amenable to——"
The sentence was broken off short, as the door opened, and a footman entered and handed a telegram to his mistress.
"For Cousin Arthur," she said, glancing from the orange-coloured envelope to Rupert. "I wonder whether I had better just open it, or have it re-telegraphed straight on to him?"
"Open it, I should think," Rupert answered carelessly; "it may be some trivial matter which you can answer," and acting upon his words, Cicely drew out the pink paper from its orange cover, and read the lines written upon it; read them slowly, and with a puzzled frown, that changed suddenly to an expression of delight.
"What an extraordinary coincidence. You need not wait, James. I will send the answer down to the telegraph boy in a few minutes. Look at this, Rupert," she went on, as the footman left the room. "Isn't it extraordinary that this telegram should have come in the very middle of our conversation?"
Rupert took the flimsy paper from her hand, and as he read the words, his cousin saw an extraordinary change flash over his face—a dusky colour mounted to his forehead, a strange brightness leapt to his eyes; and, having read the words to himself, he read them aloud—
"Come here at once. Wire to post office, Graystone; and any train shall be met. Christina Moore with me. Have made important discovery.—MARGARET STANFORTH."
"At last," he murmured under his breath, as with curious deliberation he folded up the telegram, and handed it back to Cicely. "At last I have found her."
The low-spoken words reached Cicely's ears, and she stared at her cousin's transformed face, saying almost involuntarily—