Meanwhile, Sir Harry and Lady Clive, repairing to the drawing-room near the dinner-hour, wonder and speculate upon the absence of their hostess.
She is not wont to keep them waiting, but to-day the great dinner-bell clangs twice over, and no swish of silk in the hall, no hastening footsteps announce her coming.
"What can keep Lady Vera?" the lady wonders, aloud. "Usually she is here full half an hour before the time. She is never long at her dressing. I wonder——"
There is a sudden, quick step outside the door, and Sir Harry interrupts her with:
"Here she is now."
The door is opened, but it is only Elsie, the maid, who enters the room. Elsie, with her pretty face all pale with fear, her cheeks wet with tears, in her hand Lady Vera's letter.
"Sir Harry," she utters, in a broken voice, "my lady went out into the grounds an hour ago. She gave me this letter for you in case she did not return within the hour. The time is past, and I have hastened to obey her."
A chill premonition of danger thrills his heart as he breaks the seal. She has written only a few brief lines, but they are startling in their nature.
"I have gone to meet the writer of the inclosed note. If I do not return in an hour you must suspect danger and have search made for me."
That is all. When he has read the contents of the yellow envelope a groan bursts from his lips as he hands it to his wife.