His lordship had met the duke in the hall, some distance from that nobleman's room, and, without observing Barminster's apparent confusion, commanded him to join in the pursuit. Barminster explained that he was going to see how the cook was resting; however, he would go much farther to be of service to the runaway sister of his host.
"She's broken-hearted," half sobbed the brother.
"Yes," agreed the duke; "and what's a broken leg to a broken heart? Penelope's heart, at that. Demme, I can't find the cook's room, anyway."
"It's in the servants' wing," said Cecil, anxious to be off.
"To be sure. Stupid ass I am. I say, old chap, here's Deveaux's door. Let's rout him out. We'll need some one to hold the horses if we have to force our way into Shaw's house."
The count was not thoroughly awake until he found himself in the saddle some time later; it is certain that he did not know until long afterward why they were riding off into the storm. He fell so far behind his companions in the run down the road that he could ask no questions. Right bravely the trio plunged into the dark territory over which the enemy ruled. It was the duke who finally brought the cavalcade to a halt by propounding a most sensible question.
"Are you sure she came this way, Cecil?"
"Certainly. This is Shaw's way, isn't it?"
"Did she say she was going to Shaw's?"
"Don't know. Evelyn told me. Hang it all, Barminster, come along.
We'll never catch up to her."