"Because—oh, Daisy, you know quite well!"
"Please don't be silly, Chloe. I wonder who it was that fired all those shots last night, and what all the noise was about."
"I can't imagine—burglars perhaps. It covered our escape most beautifully. Well, Daisy, you're out of your cage now with a vengeance. Society will never have anything more to do with a hostess who leaves a Duke and a Duchess stranded in the middle of an Ascot week. You might have got over a murder safely, or even me, but you can never get over that."
"I suppose the Duke is furious," said Mrs. Verulam rather wistfully.
She happened to be right. His Grace was furious just then with the owner of Mitching Dean, who, in endeavouring to defend his person from the Duke's attack during the rehearsal, had used his hoe in such an unwarrantable manner as to black his Grace's left eye and very nearly knock out a couple of his Grace's front teeth.
"It can't be helped if he is," said Chloe, wondering what was the exact condition of the Lady Pearl.
"Mr. Bush will follow us immediately, I feel sure," continued Mrs. Verulam, wholly unaware that the paragon had immediately preceded them. "I can see him here before me in his sweet little home;" and as she spoke she opened the wicket-gate with a click and advanced into the garden.
"There doesn't seem to be anybody about," said Chloe, behaving like a person on the stage, and looking everywhere but in the direction where there was somebody to be seen; "not a creature, not a soul. Let us sit down for a moment and rest;" and she took a seat upon a deal bench, of which the mushroom-house formed the back.
The Duchess trembled on the dibble-holes.
"This is deliciously comfortable," said Mrs. Verulam. "I shall always sit on plain wood for the future. Shall you be glad to change your trousers?"