To her stupefaction, the man smiled politely and informed her that the document was genuine.  What had the Patriarch to do with it?  That was very simple.  Had she not been married to a Russian subject by the Greek rite in Paris?  Certainly.  Very well.  All marriages of Russian subjects out of their own country took place under the authority of the Patriarch of Constantinople, and all suits for divorcing persons thus married came under his jurisdiction.  That was all.  It was such a simple matter that every Russian knew all about it.  The clerk asked if he could be of service to her.  He had been stationed in Constantinople, and knew just what to do; and, moreover, he had a friend at the Chancery there, who would take charge of the case if the Countess desired it.

Lady Maud thanked him coldly, replaced the document in its envelope, and left the Embassy with the intention of never setting foot in it again.

She understood why Leven had suddenly lost an aunt of whom she had never heard, and had got out of the way on pretence of an imaginary inheritance.  The dates showed plainly that the move had been prepared before he left, and that he had started when the notice of the suit was about to be sent to her.  The only explanation that occurred to her was that her husband had found some very rich woman who was willing to marry him if he could free himself; and this seemed likely enough.

She hesitated as to how she should act.  Her first impulse was to go to her father, who was a lawyer and would give her good advice, but a moment’s thought showed her that it would be a mistake to go to him.  Being no longer immobilised by a sprained ankle, Lord Creedmore would probably leave England instantly in pursuit of Leven himself, and no one could tell what the consequences might be if he caught him; they would certainly be violent, and they might be disastrous.

Then Lady Maud thought of telegraphing to Mr. Van Torp to come to town to see her about an urgent matter; but she decided against that course too.  Whatever her relations were with the American financier this was not the moment to call attention to them.  She would write to him, and in order to see him conveniently she would suggest to her father to have a week-end house party in the country, and to ask his neighbour over from Oxley Paddox.  Nobody but Mr. Van Torp and the post-office called the place Torp Towers.

She had taken a hansom to the Embassy, but she walked back to Charles Street because she was angry, and she considered nothing so good for a rage as a stiff walk.  By the time she reached her own door she was as cool as ever, and her clear eyes looked upon the wicked world with their accustomed calm.

As she laid her hand on the door-bell, a smart brougham drove up quickly and stopped close to the pavement, and as she turned her head Margaret was letting herself out, before the footman could get round from the other side to open the door of the carriage.