CHAPTER III The Duke of Datchet's brougham, containing the Duke of Datchet himself upon one seat, and Messrs. Ruby and Golden cheek by jowl upon the other, drew up in front of a charming villa in the most charming part of charming St. John's Wood. The Duke's ring--for the Duke himself did ring, and there was no knocker--was answered by a most unimpeachable-looking man-servant in livery. The man-servant was not only unimpeachable-looking--which every servant ought to look--but good-looking, too, which, in a servant, is not regarded as quite so indispensable. He was, indeed, so good-looking as to be quite a "beauty man." So young, too! A mere youth! When this man-servant opened the door, and saw to whom he had opened it, he started. And not only did he start, but Messrs. Ruby and Golden started too, particularly Mr. Golden. The Duke of Datchet, if he observed this little by-play, did not condescend to notice it. "Is Mrs. Mansfield in?" "I believe so. I will enquire. What name?" "Never mind the name, and I will make my own enquiries. You needn't announce me, I know the way." The Duke of Datchet seemed to know the way very well indeed. He led the way up the staircase; Messrs. Ruby and Golden followed. The man-servant remained at the foot of the stairs, as if doubtful whether or not he ought to follow. When they had reached the landing, and the man-servant, still remaining below, was out of sight, Mr. Golden turned to Mr. Ruby. "Where on earth have I seen that man before?" "I was just addressing to myself the same enquiry," said Mr. Ruby. The Duke paused. He turned to the partners. "What's that? The servant? Have you seen the man before? The plot is thickening. I am afraid 'the Duchess' is getting warm." Apparently the Duke knew his way so well that he did not think it necessary to announce himself at the door of the room to which he led the partners. He simply turned the handle and went in, Messrs. Ruby and Golden close upon his heels. The room which he had entered was a pretty room, and contained a pretty occupant. A lady, young and fair, rose from a couch which was at the opposite side of the apartment, and, as was most justifiable under the circumstances, stared: "Hereward!" "Mrs. Mansfield!" "Whatever brings you here?" "My dear Mrs. Mansfield, I have come to ask you what you think of Mr. Kesteeven's necklace." "Hereward, what do you mean?" The Duke's manner changed from jest to earnest. "Rather, Gertrude, what do you mean? What have I done that deserved such a return from you? What have I done to you that you should have endeavoured to drag my wife's name in the mire?" The lady stared. "I have no more idea what you are talking about than the man in the moon!" "You dare to tell me so, in the presence of these men?" "In the presence of what men?" "In the presence of your victims--of Mr. Ruby and of Mr. Golden?" Mr. Golden advanced a step or two. "Excuse me, your Grace--this is not the lady."