The Duchess almost staggered to her feet. "Windlehurst--gone!" she
gasped.

"I called to see her. Her ladyship had gone into the country, the
footman said. I saw the butler, a faithful soul, who would die--or clean
the area steps--for her. He was discreet; but he knew what you and I are
to her. It was he got the tickets--for Marseilles and Egypt."

The Duchess began to cry silently. Big tears ran down a face from which
the glow of feeling had long fled, but her eyes were sad enough.

"Gone--gone! It is the end!" was all she could say. Lord Windlehurst
frowned, though his eyes were moist. "We must act at once. You must go
to Egypt, Betty. You must catch her at Marseilles. Her boat does not
sail for three days. She thought it went sooner, as it was advertised to
do. It is delayed--I've found that out. You can start to-night, and--
and save the situation. You will do it, Betty?"

"I will do anything you say, as I have always done." She dried her eyes.

"She is a good girl. We must do all we can. I'll arrange everything for
you myself. I've written this paragraph to go into the papers to-morrow
morning: 'The Duchess of Snowdon, accompanied by Lady Eglington, left
London last night for the Mediterranean via Calais, to be gone for two
months or more.' That is simple and natural. I'll see Eglington. He
must make no fuss. He thinks she has gone to Hamley, so the butler says.
There, it's all clear. Your work is cut out, Betty, and I know you will
do it as no one else can."