She stared around, dazed for a moment, and then she saw the time tables—­the Bradshaw and the A.B.C.  She turned over the leaves of the latter with feverish haste.  Yes, there was a train which left at 2:30 and got to London at half-past five; it was a slow one—­the express which started at 3:30, did not get in until nearly six.  That might be too late—­both might be too late, but she must try.  Then she put her hand to her head in agony.  She did not know where he had gone.  Would he go to his mother’s, or to his old rooms in St. James’s Street?  She did not know their number.

She rang the bell and asked that Michelham should come to her.

The old servant saw her ghastly face, and knew from Higgins that his master intended going to Paris that night.  He guessed some tragedy had happened between them, and longed to help.

“Michelham,” she said, “his lordship has gone to London.  Do you know to what address?  I must follow him—­it is a matter of life and death that I see him before he starts for Paris.  Order my motor for the 2:30 train—­it is quicker than to go by car all the way.”

“Yes, my lady,” Michelham said.  “Everything will be ready.  His lordship has gone to his rooms, 460 St. James’s Street.  May I accompany your ladyship?  His lordship would not like your ladyship to travel alone.”

“Very well,” she said.  “There is no place anywhere, within driving distance that I could catch a train that got in before, is there?”

“No, my lady; that will be the soonest,” he said.  “And will your ladyship please to eat some luncheon?  There is an hour before the motor will be round.  I know your ladyship’s own footman, James, should go with your ladyship, but if it is something serious, as an old servant, and, if I may say so, a humble and devoted friend of his lordship’s, I would beg to accompany your ladyship instead.”

“Yes, yes, Michelham,” said Zara, and hurried from the room.

She sent a telegram when at last she reached the station—­to the St. James’s Street rooms.

“What you thought was not true.  Do not leave until I come and explain.  I am your own Zara.”

Then the journey began—­three hours of agony, with the constant stoppages, and the one thought going over and over in her brain.  He believed she had a lover and a child, and yet he loved her!  Oh, God!  That was love, indeed!—­and she might not be in time.

But at last they arrived—­Michelham and she—­and drove to Tristram’s rooms.

Yes, his lordship had been expected at five, but had not arrived yet; he was late.  And Michelham explained that Lady Tancred had come, and would wait, while he himself went round to Park Lane to see if Lord Tancred had been there.

He made up a splendid fire in the sitting-room, and, telling Higgins not to go in and disturb her even with tea, the kind old man started on his quest—­much anxiety in his mind.