“I do not blame you, Duke,” Mr. Sabin said.  “My one desire now is to wrest my wife away from this gang.  Can you tell me whether she left alone or with any of them?”

“I will endeavour to ascertain,” the Duke said, ringing the bell.

But before the Duke’s somewhat long-winded series of questions had gone very far Mr. Sabin grasped the fact that the servants had been tampered with.  Without wasting any more time he took a somewhat hurried leave and drove back to the hotel.  One of the hall porters approached him, smiling.

“There is a lady waiting for you in your rooms, sir,” he announced.  “She arrived a few minutes ago.”

Mr. Sabin rang for the elevator, got out at his floor and walked down the corridor, leaning a little more heavily than usual upon his stick.  If indeed it were Lucille who had braved all and come to him the way before them might still be smooth sailing.  He would never let her go again.  He was sure of that.  They would leave England—­yes, there was time still to catch the five o’clock train.  He turned the handle of his door and entered.  A familiar figure rose from the depths of his easy-chair.  Her hat lay on the table, her jacket was open, one of his cigarettes was between her lips.  But it was not Lucille.

“Lady Carey!” he said slowly.  “This is an unexpected pleasure.  Have you brought Lucille with you?”

“I am afraid,” she answered, “that I have no ropes strong enough.”

“You insinuate,” he remarked, “that Lucille would be unwilling to come.”

“There is no longer any need,” she declared, with a hard little laugh, “for insinuations.  We have all been turned out from Dorset House neck and crop.  Lucille has accepted the inevitable.  She has gone to Reginald’s Brott’s rooms.”

Mr. Sabin smiled.

“Indeed.  I have just come from Dorset House myself.  The Duke has supplied me with a highly entertaining account of his sudden awakening.  The situation must have been humorous.”

Her eyes twinkled.

“It was really screamingly funny.  The Duke had on his house of Lords manner, and we all sat round like a lot of naughty children.  If only you had been there.”

Mr. Sabin smiled.  Suddenly she laid her hand upon his arm.

“Victor,” she said, “I have come to prove that I am your friend.  You do not believe that Lucille is with Reginald Brott.  It is true!  Not only that, but she is leaving England with him to-night.  The man’s devotion is irresistible—­he has been gaining on her slowly but surely all the time.”

“I have noticed,” Mr. Sabin remarked calmly, “that he has been wonderfully assiduous.  I am sure I congratulate him upon his success, if he has succeeded.”

“You doubt my word of course,” she said.  “But I have not come here to tell you things.  I have come to prove them.  I presume that what you see with your own eyes will be sufficient.”