Naturally she did not sleep well or continuously, disturbed as she was by such thoughts—­such uneasy anticipations—­and her eyes showed the results of a bad night when she met Miss Payne in the morning.

About eleven o’clock Katherine came quickly into Miss Payne’s particular sitting-room, where she made up her accounts and studied her bank-book.

“What is it?” asked that lady, looking up, and perceiving that Katherine was agitated.

“A telegram from Ada.  They will be here about five this afternoon.”

“Well, never mind.  There is nothing in that to scare you.”

“I am not scared, but I wish that interview was over.”

“Yes; I shall be glad when it is; though I shall not obtrude on his Royal Highness. (I suppose he is coming as well as she.) I shall be in the house, so you can send for me if you want me.”

“Thank you, Miss Payne; you are very good to me.  I feel that I ought not to stay here crowding up your house.”

“Nonsense!  I am not in such a hurry to find a new inmate.  I shall not like any one as well as you.  I wish I could give up and live in a neat little cottage, but I cannot.  Indeed, if you think I may, I should like to mention this deplorable change in your fortunes to Mrs. Needham.  She knows every one, and can bring all sorts of people together if she likes.”

“By all means, Miss Payne.  There is no reason why you should not.”

And after a little more conversation Katherine went back to her occupation of arranging her belongings and wardrobe, that when the moment of parting came she might be quite ready to go.

To wait patiently for that which you know will be painful is torture of no mean order.  It was somewhat curtailed for Katherine on that memorable day, for Colonel and Mrs. Ormonde arrived half an hour sooner than she expected.

They had driven direct from the station to Wilton Street, and Katherine saw at a glance that both were greatly disturbed.

“Katherine, what is the meaning of your dreadful letter?” cried Mrs. Ormonde, without any previous greeting, while the Colonel barked a gruff “How d’ye do?”

“My letter, Ada, I am sorry to say, meant what it said,” returned Katherine, sadly.  “Do sit down, and let us discuss what is best to be done.”

“What can be done?” exclaimed Mrs. Ormonde, bursting into tears.

“For God’s sake, don’t let us have tears and nonsense,” said Colonel Ormonde, roughly.  “Tell me, Katherine, is it possible Newton means to give in to this impostor?  Why does he not demand proper proof, and throw the whole business into chancery?”

“I am sure Mr. Newton could not doubt George Liddell’s story.  He could not go back from his own involuntary recognition, nor could I pretend to doubt what I believe is true.”

“Pooh! that is high-flown bosh.  You need not say what you do or do not believe.  All you have to do is to throw the onus of proof on this fellow.”