"Indeed, it requires explaining," remarked Prue, who had quite regained her self-command. "It is much easier to understand why he is sending him to the Tower, if he be a poor relation."
During the laughter that followed this sally, other guests arrived and the loss of the queen's diamond necklace having, by this time, become pretty generally known, poor Prue had to listen to every variation of the story and every kind of theory concerning it, all leading to the same conclusion, that Robin the highwayman had been at the masquerade ball and profiting by opportunity—the Ruling Planet of adventurers—had carried off a prize of incalculable value.
With difficulty she eluded Sir Geoffrey's ironical condolences, and took her accustomed part in the heedless chatter, watching the clock as minute by minute slipped away and still her visitors lingered.
"Oh! if they would only go," she whispered to Peggie. "Do you think if I were to fall in a fit, or make James give an alarm of fire, that it would speed the parting guest?"
But the longest afternoon comes to an end some time, and Lady Drumloch's weary looks presently reminded her guests that she was but recently off her sick-bed. So with a great rustling of silks and sweeping of voluminous curtseys, they withdrew, with as many farewell speeches as though they did not expect to meet again in a few hours at dinner, rout or playhouse, and left the old countess to be carried up-stairs, and the two girls to their own devices.
When they were alone, Peggie threw her arms round her cousin. "Oh! my poor Prue," she cried; "what I have suffered for you the last hour—"
"Tell me of your sufferings by and by, Peggie," said Prue, rather ungratefully. "If you would help me, bid James fetch a chair, while I get me a cloak; I must hasten to the duchess."
"The duchess! Oh, Prue, dearest, don't do anything rash; for Heaven's sake, try to be discreet. If you can not help Robin, do not ruin yourself for the sake of a thief!"
"You are quite mistaken, Margaret; every one is determined that Robin has taken the necklace, and if I did not know him better than you do, I might think the same. But trust me; for once I will be the personification of prudence, and you will see that everything will come right. If any one should ask you where I am, say I have gone to offer my services and sympathies to the duchess. Sure, 'tis a terrible blow for her, and there are those about the queen who would rejoice if it were mortal. No one will wonder that I should wish at such a time to prove my friendship for one who has so often stood by me."
CHAPTER XVIII