He raised his fine eyes, in which there was no laughter, rather a dreamy intensity.  Lady Henry shrank.

“If you’re thinking of Chudleigh,” she said, uncertainly, “be glad for him.  It was release.  As for Henry Warkworth—­”

“Ah, poor fellow!” said Montresor, perfunctorily.  “Poor fellow!”

He had dropped Lady Henry’s hand, but he now recaptured it, enclosing the thin, jewelled fingers in his own.

“Well, well, then it’s peace, with all my heart.”  He stooped and lightly kissed the fingers.  “And now, when do you expect our friend?”

“At any moment,” said Lady Henry.

She seated herself, and Montresor beside her.

“I am told,” said Montresor, “that this horror will not only affect Delafield personally, but that he will regard the dukedom as a calamity.”

“Hm!—­and you believe it?” said Lady Henry.

“I try to,” was the Minister’s laughing reply.  “Ah, surely, here they are!”

Meredith turned from the window, to which he had gone back.

“The carriage has just arrived,” he announced, and he stood fidgeting, standing first on one foot, then on the other, and running his hand through his mane of gray hair.  His large features were pale, and any close observer would have detected the quiver of emotion.

A sound of voices from the anteroom, the Duchess’s light tones floating to the top.  At the same time a door on the other side of the drawing-room opened and the Duke of Crowborough appeared.

“I think I hear my wife,” he said, as he greeted Montresor and hurriedly crossed the room.

There was a rustle of quick steps, and the little Duchess entered.

“Freddie, here is Julie!”

Behind appeared a tall figure in black.  Everybody in the room advanced, including Lady Henry, who, however, after a few steps stood still behind the others, leaning on her stick.

Julie looked round the little circle, then at the Duke of Crowborough, who had gravely given her his hand.  The suppressed excitement already in the room clearly communicated itself to her.  She did not lose her self-command for an instant, but her face pleaded.

“Is it really true?  Perhaps there is some mistake?”

“I fear there can be none,” said the Duke, sadly.  “Poor Chudleigh had been long dead when they found him.”

“Freddie,” said the Duchess, interrupting, “I have told Greswell we shall want the carriage at half-past nine for Euston.  Will that do?”

“Perfectly.”

Greswell, the handsome groom of the chambers, approached Julie.

“Your grace’s maid wishes to know whether it is your grace’s wish that she should go round to Heribert Street before taking the luggage to Euston?”

Julie looked at the man, bewildered.  Then a stormy color rushed into her cheeks.

“Does he mean my maid?” she said to the Duke, piteously.

“Certainly.  Will you give your orders?”