Suddenly his face lighted up as he said to himself.  “It is Salome who is found!  Of course it must be Salome, since no one else was really lost.  It is Salome, and that is the very reason why Setter spoke so indefinitely; for I remember now that I instructed him to avoid using the name of the duchess in any telegram.  Salome is found!  Ah!  I thank Heaven!  She is found!  But—­” he reflected with a sudden re-action of feeling—­“how, where, when, by whom, under what circumstances was my bride found?  Is she well or ill?  Can she give any satisfactory explanation of her absence?” were the next anxious, soul-racking questions that chased each other through his mind.

“Oh, for the strong pinions of the eagle, that I might fly to her at once and satisfy all these anxious doubts,” he breathed.

It was now but six o’clock in the afternoon.  The first train for London would not stop at Lone until midnight, and would not reach London until eight o’clock the next morning—­fourteen hours of suspense!

He could not bear that.

The telegraph operator was about to close the office.

The duke stopped him by saying: 

“I wish to send a telegram to London.”

“It is after hours, your grace,” answered the operator, very deferentially.

“I will pay you whatever you may demand for your extra services, over and above your usual fee,” said the duke.

The operator hesitated.

“That is to say, if there is no rule in your office to forbid it,” added the duke.

“There is no rule to prevent it, your grace.  My time is up, and I was about to go home to supper, that was all.  I will send your grace’s message, if you please,” the operator explained, as he took his seat again.

The duke hastily dashed off the following message: 

“LONE, N.B., October 31st, 6 P.M.

“To J.A.  SETTER, Police Station, Old Church Court, Kensington, London:  Shall leave for London by this midnight express-train.  Is she quite well?  Answer immediately.  HEREWARD.”

The operator took the message with a bow.  The click of the instrument was soon heard, as the message, with the speed of light, flew on its errand.

“Will you remain here until I can receive an answer?” inquired the duke, as soon as the sound ceased.

“I should be happy to accommodate your grace; but if there should be no answer, say up to twelve o’clock?” suggested the young man.

“In that case I should not ask you to remain; as you must know by my telegram that I am to take the train for London at that hour.”

“Certainly, your grace; but I thought it possible that you might wish the message taken to some other person in the event of your absence.”

“Not at all.  I want it for myself alone.  If it does not come before twelve I shall have no use for it.”

“Then I will remain here until midnight, if necessary; but it may not be necessary.”