“Perhaps he does, and perhaps he doesn't. All the same, he should know for certain! The big point is, will you get Larry word?”
A moment passed and the Duchess did not speak. In fact this time she had not heard Maggie, so intent was she in trying to look through Maggie's dark, eager eyes to the very core of Maggie's being.
“Will you get Larry word?” Maggie repeated impatiently.
The Duchess came out of her study. There was a sudden thrill within her, but it did not show in her voice.
“Yes.”
“At once?”
“As soon as telling him will do any good. And now you better hurry back to your hotel, if you don't want Barney and Old Jimmie to suspect what you've been up to. Though why you still want to hang on to that pair, knowing what they are, is more than I can guess.”
She stood up. “Wait a minute,” she said as Maggie started for the door. Maggie turned back, and for another moment the Duchess silently peered deep into Maggie's eyes. Then she said shortly, almost sharply: “At your age I was twice as pretty as you are—and twice as clever—and I played much the same game. Look what I got out of life!... Good-night.” And abruptly the Duchess wheeled about and mounted the stairway.
Twenty minutes later Maggie was back at the Grantham, her absence unobserved. Though palpitant over Larry's fate, she had the satisfaction of having achieved with Larry's grandmother what she had set forth to achieve. She did not know, could not know, that what she had accepted as her achievement was inconsequential compared to what had actually been achieved by her spontaneous appearance before the troubled Duchess.