He moved forward as he spoke; and the light of the full moon falling on his smooth, clean-shaven face, showed it so ghastly white, so moved by strong emotion that Lady Constance started back a step, while Leroy himself stared in surprise.

“Good Heavens!” he said, “whatever is the matter to make you drive down in such a state?  What is wrong?  Is it the theatre?” A faint contemptuous smile crossed his face as he thought of Ada.

“Pshaw!” exclaimed Vermont, scornfully.  “The theatre!  No, Adrien, there’s not a moment to be lost.  I must speak with you at once.  Don’t look at me like that.  You do not grasp what imminent peril is hanging over you.”

“Peril!” gasped Lady Constance, springing forward and placing her hand on Adrien’s arm, her movement showing, perhaps unconsciously, the state of her feelings towards him more than anything else could have done.  It was as if she wished to share with him any approaching pain.

Jasper glanced at her from beneath his lowered lids—­the sort of hungry look one would imagine a starving wolf might cast at a lamb.

“Serious peril!” repeated Lady Constance.

“Of what kind?” asked Leroy, still with that faint smile on his lips, and quite unmoved by Jasper’s solemn face.  Then, without waiting for an answer, he continued scornfully:  “Peril!  My dear Jasper, what danger can I be in?  This is not the Middle Ages, and there are no assassins waiting around, are there?  However, let me take Con—­Lady Constance back to the ball-room again, and then I will enjoy, or at any rate listen to all you have to tell me.”

Jasper Vermont smiled bitterly, and took out his watch, which had been a present from Leroy.

“Adrien,” he said slowly, “you have ten minutes between you and dishonour!”

Adrien turned round sharply, and half raised his arm as if to strike, while such a stern look crossed his face that Lady Constance scarcely recognised it as the same which, but a few minutes ago, had gazed on her so lovingly.

“Adrien!” she cried, almost shuddering at the tense anger shining in his eyes.  “He must be mad!” She turned proudly on Jasper.  “That is sufficient, Mr. Vermont.  Pray leave us at once.  If this is a jest, I consider it is in extremely bad taste.”

Jasper bit his lip at her words, but did not shift his ground.

“No,” said Leroy, “it is no jest, dear; there is something wrong, I feel sure.  I will have a few words with him in private.”  He led her gently towards the door, and with pale face and trembling heart, Lady Constance re-entered the ball-room she had left so happily, seating herself near the entrance in one of the many alcoves.  She was overcome by a nameless fear, and that horrible feeling of utter helplessness which overwhelms one as in a heavy cloud, and darkens the horizon for us all when weighed down by suspense.

Suddenly she determined to seek Lord Barminster, and had risen to do so, when she heard not only the voices of Adrien and Vermont, but another also, a strange one, talking not loudly but very sternly.  Hardly knowing what to do, she was about to return to the terrace to ascertain what was happening, when fortunately her uncle approached with Mortimer Shelton.  She went quickly to meet them, and told them her fears.