The Duchess replied that she would go to Heribert Street at once. As Lord Uredale took her to her carriage a young man ran down the steps hastily, raised his hat, and disappeared.
Lord Uredale explained that he was the husband of the famous young beauty, Mrs. Delaray, whose portrait Lord Lackington had been engaged upon at the time of his seizure. Having been all his life a skilful artist, a man of fashion, and a harmless haunter of lovely women, Lord Lackington, as the Duchess knew, had all but completed a gallery of a hundred portraits, representing the beauty of the reign. Mrs. Delaray's would have been the hundredth in a series of which Mrs. Norton was the first.
"He has been making arrangements with the husband to get it finished," said Lord Uredale; "it has been on his mind."
The Duchess shivered a little.
"He knows he won't finish it?"
"Quite well."
"And he still thinks of those things?"
"Yes--or politics," said Lord Uredale, smiling faintly. "I have written to Mr. Montresor. There are two or three points my father wants to discuss with him."
"And he is not depressed, or troubled about himself?"
"Not in the least. He will be grateful if you will bring him Miss Le Breton."