"The police! What's the good of sending for the police? If what that letter says is true, by the time I have succeeded in making a thick-skulled constable understand what has happened the Duchess will be--will be mutilated!"
The Duke turned away as if the thought were frightful--as, indeed, it was.
"Is that all you can suggest?"
"Unless your Grace proposes taking the five hundred pounds."
One might almost have suspected that the words were spoken in irony. But before he could answer another servant entered, who also brought a letter for the Duke. When his Grace's glance fell on it he uttered an exclamation. The writing on the envelope was the same writing that had been on the envelope which had contained the very singular communication--like it in all respects down to the broomstick-end thickness of the "Private!" and "Very pressing!!!" in the corner.
"Who brought this?" stormed the Duke.
The servant appeared to be a little startled by the violence of his Grace's manner.
"A lady--or, at least, your Grace, she seemed to be a lady."
"Where is she?"
"She came in a hansom, your Grace. She gave me that letter, and said, 'Give that to the Duke of Datchet at once--without a moment's delay!' Then she got into the hansom again, and drove away."