The Dukes, bent on provoking the maid to her former manner, began witty tales of wayside inns.  Their demeanour was so noble, their stories so terse and pretty, their converse of such elegant and pure wording, she relaxed and fell into their mood and told what few convent stories she could boast.  Their Graces were charmed by her beauty, her sweet resonant voice and the simple and innocent narratives, and not a little pleased by the result of their diplomacy.

* * * * *

When Mistress Penwick had gone from the grand salon the evening before, Lord Cedric was not long in discovering her absence; for his eyes and thoughts ever sought her.  He had been greatly stirred by some unknown thing, perhaps that we call premonition (’tis God’s own gift, if we would but heed its warning), but the game being well under way and Constance calling his attention to an immediate and imperative move, he was dissuaded from his inclination to arise and inquire of the maid’s absence.  It was not for long, however, either the game or his kinswoman’s cunning could hold his Lordship from seeking her.  Quietly he beckoned a lackey and whispered aside.  A few minutes elapsed when the servant stood by his master, while beyond in the doorway was Janet, who for once in her life was quite pale.  Swiftly Lord Cedric strode to her, saying,—­

“Hast thou looked for her everywhere, Janet?”

“Aye, my lord, in her own chamber and—­”

“But perhaps she has gone to the kitchens or pantries, for hunger doth assail her not infrequent and at unusual hours.”

There was a bit of bitterness and sarcasm in his voice and he ground his heel as he turned about to give orders.  In a moment servants were hunting in every direction throughout the castle.  It was soon ascertained she was not within the great house.  Cedric grew wild with passion and tore up and down like one gone mad.  Sir Julian could not restrain him, a thing that had not happened heretofore.  Angel, his old nurse, was called; she bade him ride forth for her.

At this a horse was made ready, and his lordship mounted and rode away.  Sir Julian protesting all the while.

As the clatter of horses’ hoofs had fairly died away and Sir Julian stood just where Cedric had left him, debating with his several ideas, a soft touch was laid almost tenderly upon his arm; had it been the soft, slimy trailing of a serpent, ’twould not have so startled him.  He turned suddenly and caught the slender hand, with no fine affection,—­

“I see it all quite plainly, thou art the cruel spider that hath woven a silken mesh for that innocent child, and thou shalt tell me before the sands of the hour-glass mark ten moments of time, where has flown Mistress Penwick,—­so speak, speak quickly, Constance!”

His voice and manner brooked no delay, and her ladyship thinking that even now Katherine was Cantemir’s wife, spoke out with a semblance of injured dignity that melted under Sir Julian’s scathing contempt to silly simpering.  The noble character of Sir Julian seemed to silhouette that of her ladyship in all its ugly blackness.