“I have sent a man down there this morning,” he said. “We are forestalled. The next train does not leave until eleven o’clock--the one by which your wife went there yesterday. It is now barely half-past eight.” “I will go to Hyde Park first,” Annesley replied. “I will see if my wife really called upon Lady Elaine. Asbury, what do you think of this telegram? It has filled me with dread. I am afraid that something has happened.” “It is like a woman to be vague,” the detective said, evasively. “I do not think that I can be of any further use to you now,” he went on, “but do not forget I am ever at your service.” They shook hands, and Paul Asbury went away, while Annesley gave his valet some hurried orders. “My wife has gone back to Tenterden,” he said; “I am going to her at once, Stimson, and, if all is well, shall take her to the Park. You will hear from me during the day.” “Yes, Sir Harold.” Stimson was very pale. He had just been reading of the suicide of Viscount Rivington, and many strange details in connection with it. It was barely half-past nine when Annesley’s cab pulled up before the villa in Hyde Park. He was admitted by Nina, and, in answer to his eager inquiries, heard that her mistress was completely recovered. “The doctor thought it useless to remain,” she concluded, “and has been gone an hour. Oh, Sir Harold,” with quivering lips, “I have read it all in the papers!” “The papers! Ah!” he exclaimed, “I had forgotten!” He followed Nina into the morning-room, where Lady Elaine was seated, and a faint flush mounted to her cheeks when he entered. “You are well, almost?” he said, taking one of her thin hands between his own. “As well as I can ever be, Harold.” Some way she could not help addressing him in the old, familiar manner. He was her lover still, though another had a stronger claim upon him. “I have read all in the newspaper this morning,” she shuddered. “I did not realize the danger I had been in until then, and, but for you, Heaven alone knows what may have happened!” “Now that Rivington is dead you are free,” Annesley observed, “and I should advise sending for Mr. Worboys at once.” “I will do as you wish, Harold,” Elaine replied. “It is possible that we shall leave here to-day, but I will let you know soon.” “Mr. Worboys had better write to my lawyer,” Annesley said, and she flushed redly, saying, “I had forgotten. You will forgive me, Sir Harold?” He looked at her, pained and startled. “I did not mean that, Elaine--not in that way; but of course you have not heard of my possible change of plans--how could you? You have not heard that my wife has left me, and been traced to her own home in the village of Tenterden? I am going to her now, and if all is as I wish it to be, we shall go home to the Park.” Then Lady Elaine told him of Theresa’s visit to her, and much of what had passed between them. He listened with tear-dimmed eyes, and only murmured, “Poor Theresa!” How many times had he said this of late!