“I see!  Of course, you must go.  There is no resisting a subpoena.  But who is to co-operate with Setter in the search for Salome?”

“You must do so, if you please, Lady Belgrade, until my return.  Of course, I will hurry back with all dispatch.”

“No fear of that.  The only fear is that you will hurry into your grave.  But here is breakfast,” said her ladyship, as a footman entered with a tray.

Mocha coffee, orange pekoe tea, Westphalia ham, poached eggs, dry toast, muffins, rolls, and so forth, were arranged upon the table to tempt the appetite of the two who sat at meat.

Lady Belgrade made a good meal.  She was at the age of which physicians say, “the constitution takes on a conservative tone,” and which poets call “the time of peace.”  In a word, she was middle-aged, fat, and comfort-loving; and so she was not disposed to lose her rest, or food, or peace of mind for any trouble not personally her own.

She was vexed at the unconventionality of Salome’s disappearance, fearful of what the world would say, and anxious to keep the matter as close as possible.  That was all, and it did not take away her appetite.

But the anxious young husband could not eat.  A feverish and burning thirst, such as frequently attends excessive grief or anxiety, consumed him.  He drank cup after cup of tea almost unconsciously, until at length Lady Belgrade said: 

“This makes four!  I am your hostess, duke; but I am also your aunt by marriage, and upon my word I cannot let you go on ruining your health in this way!  You shall not have another cup of tea, unless you consent to eat something with it.”

The young duke smiled wanly, and submitted so far as to take a piece of dry toast on his plate and crumble it into bits.

Meanwhile, the dowager, having finished her breakfast, took up the Times to look over.

Presently she startled the duke by exclaiming: 

“Thank Heaven!”

“What is it?” hastily inquired the duke, setting down his cup and gazing at the silent reader.  “Any news of Salome?” he added, and then nearly lost his breath while waiting for the answer.

“Oh, yes, news of Salome!  But scarcely authentic news.  Listen!  Here is a full account of the wedding—­with a description of the bride and bridesmaids, and their dresses and attendants, and of the ceremony and the officiating clergy, and the attending crowd, and the wedding-breakfast, speeches, presents, and so on, all tolerably correct for a newspaper report.  But now listen to this—­”

Her ladyship here read aloud: 

“Immediately after the wedding-breakfast, the happy pair left town, by the London and South Coast Railway, en route for Dover, Paris and the Continent.”

“There! what do you think of that?” inquired Lady Belgrade, looking up.

“I think it is not the first occasion upon which a paper has anticipated and described an expected event that some unforeseen accident prevented from coming off,” answered the duke, with a sigh.