“They found this in the cornice?” de Daun asked intently. It was important for him to get the story correctly.
“Somewhere stuck away in the curtains or behind the shutter; anyhow, hidden by the window.”
“And who found it? A workman, eh?”
“One of the Duke’s men.”
“And what is to be the upshot?” Mrs. Hargrave’s turn of mind was practical and anticipatory.
“Well, the whole thing will come out,” Greetland asserted.
“No? Be made public?” Lady Rotherfield was dead against the publicity of to-day. A scandal to which the mob had access lost all its piquancy and was not worth discussing. The world was becoming less interesting every hour.
“To-morrow,” Greetland confidently affirmed, “the man in the street will know as much of the affair as we do.”
Lady Rotherfield gave a shrug of despair. The world where the man in the street is as well posted as the Duchess in the Square was scarcely worth living in.
“Then the Duke can’t hush it up this time, eh?” de Daun demanded, showing his malicious teeth.