‘Only just time to dress, darling,’ said he to his daughter. ‘Got such a budget of news; met Croker just as I was coming out, tell Ernest. No end of news—quite unparalleled. You will be surprised, and so will he.’ ‘And so will you,’ thought Mr. Neuchamp, who just came into the hall in time to hear the concluding sentence. But he darkly bided his time. As the dinner-bell rang, forth issued Mr. Frankston, radiant with snowy waistcoat and renovated _personnel_, having the air at once of a man in good hope and expectation of dinner, also conscious of the possession of news which, however sensationally disastrous, does not prejudicially affect himself. ‘Now then,’ he said, the soup having been disposed of, and the mildly stimulating Amontillado imbibed, ‘what do you think has become of our friend—or, rather, your friend, Antonia, for you never would let me abuse him—the Count von Schätterheims?’ ‘What indeed?’ replied Antonia, looking at her plate. ‘Well, he has bolted, levanted, cleared out, on board his famous yacht, the _White Falcon_, for some northern port—Batavia, the Islands, New Guinea—no one knows.’ ‘How about money matters?’ inquired Ernest. ‘Well, you both take it coolly, I must say,’ said Paul, hurt at the small effect of his great piece of ordnance. ‘As to money, all Sydney, in the legitimate credit way, is left lamenting. He had been operating very largely of late, and his losses and defalcations are immense. Yorick and Co.’s bill for wines and liqueurs is something awful.’ ‘Alas, poor Yorick!’ said Ernest, with so pathetic an emphasis that Antonia could not help laughing. ‘You two seem very facetious to-night,’ quoth Paul with dignity. ‘It is no laughing matter, I can tell you. But you won’t laugh at _this_, I fancy. Croker told me that it was everywhere believed that he had persuaded that unhappy, infatuated girl Harriet Folleton to accompany him in his flight.’ Mr. Frankston uttered these last words with a deep solemnity, imparted to his voice by the heartfelt pity which, at any time, he could have felt for the victim in such a case. His daughter and Ernest were sufficiently ill-bred to laugh. ‘Hang me if I understand this!’ he commenced, in tones of righteous indignation; and then, softening, ‘Why Antonia, dearest, surely you must pity——’ ‘Papa, she is upstairs and in bed at this very moment, so she can’t have run away with the Count. There must be a mistake somewhere.’ ‘So there must, so there must,’ said Paul, instantly mollified, and addressing himself to his dinner. ‘I’m a hot-tempered old idiot, I know. But there’s no mistake about the Count’s debts, or the Count’s flight. He was sighted by No. 4 pilot cutter that brought in the English liner, the _Cumberland_, this evening, steering nor’-nor’-east, and before such a breeze as will see him clear of anything from this port before daylight.’