"Have you news, William?" she faltered, her heart beating almost to suffocation.
"Yes," he answered, in a strained unnatural tone. "Here, read this!" and he thrust a cablegram into her trembling hands.
She had hardly strength to unfold the paper, but her pulses bounded with exultation as she read:
New York, Aug. 10, 18—.
"To Sir William Heath, London:
"Lady Heath left the —— House on the 2d instant. Do not know her address.
Eldred Edlbridge."
Mr. Eldridge, as we know, was the proprietor of the hotel where Virgie had been boarding during her husband's absence, and we can imagine something of his consternation when he received Sir William's cable dispatch inquiring for his wife, and realized, all too late, the enormity of the insult he had offered to that lady.
Lady Linton, however, had hard work to conceal her joy over the contents of the message.
Virgie had been gone for more than a week, leaving no clew to her whereabouts, which was evidence enough that she believed the very worst of her husband, imagined herself a dishonored and deserted woman, and had doubtless buried herself in some remote corner where no one would be likely to discover her.
Lady Linton's plot had worked thus far beyond her most sanguine expectations and she accepted her success as an omen of good for the future.
But she hid all this under a mask of well-assumed surprise.
"What can it mean? Why should she leave the hotel where you left her?" she inquired of her brother.