Part 9 (1/2)

”I suppose you'll go by the eleven-o'clock train to Paris to-morrow?”

”Yes,” he said.

”Well, you're wrong. Good-night.”

At twelve o'clock the next day I called in Curzon Street, and sent in my card to Lady Daynesborough.

She saw me at once. I expect that she fancied I had something to do with her husband's sudden departure. She was looking pale and dispirited, and I rather thought she had been crying. Her husband, it appeared, had told her that he had to go to Paris on business, and would be back in three days.

”He didn't tell you what it was?”

”No. Some public affairs, I understood.”

”Lady Daynesborough,” said I, ”you hardly know me, but my name tells you I am a gentleman.”

She looked at me in surprise.

”Why, of course, Mr. Jason. But what has that to do----”

”I can't explain. But, if you are wise, you will come with me to Paris.”

”Go with you to Paris! Oh! is he in danger?”

”In danger of making a fool of himself. Now, I'll say nothing more. Will you come?”

”It will look very strange.”

”Very.”

”In fact--most unusual.”

”Most.”

”Won't there be a--a--scandal, if----”

”Sure to be. Will you come?”

”You must have a reason,” she said. ”I will come.”

We started that evening, nine hours after My Lord, going separately to the station, and meeting on the boat. All through the journey she scarcely spoke a word. When we were nearing Paris, she asked:

”Do you know where he is?”

”No; but I can trace him,” I replied.

So I could. I bought a paper, and found that Prince and Princess Ferdinand had, the day before, proceeded from Paris _en route_ for Glottenberg. Of course Daynesborough had followed them.

”We must go on,” I said.

”Why?”