"The woman has somehow slipped away. Through the crowd it is believed, your Grace. The messenger----"
But at that moment the unfortunate official himself appeared in the doorway, looking scared out of his life, "What is this?" said the Duke sharply.
The man whimpered. "'Fore God it is not my fault," he cried. "She never passed through the door! May I die if she did, your Grace."
"She may be still in the hall?"
"We have searched it through and through!" the man answered desperately. "It remains only to search the house, your Grace--with your permission."
"What!" the Duke cried, really or apparently startled. "Why the house?"
"She must have slipped into the house, for she never went out!" the man answered doggedly. "She never went out!"
The Duke shrugged his shoulders and turned to Lord Marlborough. "What do you think?" said he.
The Earl raised his eyebrows. By this time half the concourse in the hall had pressed to the doorway, and were staring into the room. "Call Martin," said the Duke. "And stand back there a little, if you please," he continued haughtily. "This is no public court, but my house, good people."
It seemed to me--but I, behind the door, was in a boundless fright--that the steward would never come. He did come at last, and pushing his way through the crowd, presented himself with a bustling confidence that failed to hide his apprehensions. Nor was the Duke's reception of him calculated to set him at his ease.