Albemarle considered a moment. Trenchard stood very thoughtful.
“Indeed,” said the Duke, at last, “I have heard as much as I need hear,” and Sir Phelips nodded in token of concurrence.
Not so, however, Colonel Luttrell. “Still,” said he, “in the interests of His Majesty, perhaps, we should be doing well to receive them.”
Albemarle blew out his cheeks like a man wearied, and stared an instant at Luttrell. Then he shrugged his shoulders.
“Admit them, then,” he commanded almost peevishly, and Ruth and Diana were ushered into the hall. Both were pale, but whilst Diana was fluttered with excitement, Ruth was calm and cool, and it was she who spoke in answer to the Duke's invitation. The burden of her speech was a clear, succinct recitation—in which she spared neither Wilding nor herself—of how the letter came to have remained in her hands and silence to have been preserved regarding it. Albemarle heard her very patiently.
“If what you say is true, mistress,” said he, “and God forbid that I should be so ungallant as to throw doubt upon a lady's word, it certainly explains—although most strangely—how the letter was not brought to us at once by your brother and his friend Sir Rowland. You are prepared to swear that this letter was intended for Mr. Wilding?”
“I am prepared to swear it,” she replied.
“This is very serious,” said the Duke.
“Very serious,” assented Sir Edward Phelips.
Albemarle, a little flustered, turned to his colleagues. “What do you say to this? Were it perhaps well to order Mr. Wilding's apprehension, and to have him brought hither?”