"News! ... news!" he muttered apologetically, and clutching at his
collar, which seemed to be choking him, "what news--er--I pray you,
ma'am?"

"That clew?" she insisted.

"It was very slight," he stammered.

"And it led to naught?"

"Alas!"

Her eagerness vanished. She sank back into her chair and moaned.

"My last hope!" she said dully.

"Nay! nay!" rejoined Master Skyffington quite cheerfully, his courage
seemingly having risen with her despair. "We must not be despondent. The
noble Earl of Northallerton hath interested himself of late in the
search and ..."

But she shrugged her shoulders, whilst a short, bitter laugh escaped her
lips:

"At last?" she said with biting sarcasm. "After twelve years!"

"Nay! but remember, ma'am, that his lordship now is very ill ... and
nigh on seventy years old.... Failing your late husband, Master
Rowland--whom the Lord hath in His keeping--your eldest son is ... hem
... that is ... by law, ma'am, ... and with all respect due to Sir