The Haredale party were all assembled in Lady Haredale's bedroom, which formed a sort of family gathering-place. Tory had rushed in with a telegram in her hand, and this was the end of a hot discussion. "Then--the train, oh, when is it?" said Miss Haredale, "and--oh yes, telegraph to my brother to meet me--for I should not know--" "I shall go with you," said Amethyst, "there is nothing else to be thought of. There will be a great deal more than you could manage alone, Aunt Anna." "Oh, but, Amethyst, you are the last person to be seen in such a place-- on such an occasion." "When my brother is dying," said Amethyst, "I don't think it can be wrong to go anywhere. If I don't like it, I'll come back again. There's a train in an hour, we can catch that." Una ran after her as she went to get ready. "Oh, Amethyst," she said, "I am afraid it will be very dreadful." "So am I," said Amethyst. "But what would become of Carrie's money if auntie were there alone? And I have never been kind to poor Charles, nor had any mercy for him. I _must_ go, Una. Only try to keep it all from Lucian; he will hurt himself with worrying about me." "If Sylvester Riddell could go with you!" "Oh no. Then Lucian would hear about it. Besides--oh no, Una, no one ought to come." "Give my love to Charles," said Una, kissing her. "Oh dear, what is to become of us all?" "I don't know," said Amethyst; "I've got to catch the train first." The train was caught, and off they set, with poor Carrie's little roll of gold pieces carefully secreted in Amethyst's dress. She was sick with fear of what she might find. To see evil which has been only heard of is a frightful thing, and she squeezed Lucian's ring through her glove, as if it gave her a sense of guardianship. No Lord Haredale appeared at the station, which seemed ominous and depressing. They took a carriage, and with some difficulty found the _Bella Italia_, the hotel from which his telegram had been dated, the driver declining to believe that the ladies _could_ want to go there. It was a second-rate little place, with noisy voices coming from the open windows of the coffee-room, and from the restaurant in the garden outside. The two ladies got out of their carriage and walked in, and Amethyst in careful broken Italian asked for Lord Haredale, and for the English gentleman who was there very ill. The host came forward, and answered her with smiles, shrugs and gestures, and a flood of incomprehensible words. Amethyst stood perplexed. Some men started up from the tables and began to explain, evidently with the best intentions, but with such vehemence of tone and gesture that Miss Haredale clutched her niece's arm, with a terrified conviction that they were all making excuses to stare at Amethyst, who began to make her inquiries in French--when, behind her, a voice that might have been the echo of her own said "Aunt Annabel!"