"Don't you believe me? That is sad, indeed. But one cannot always help these wanderings. You do not believe me? Melancholy, truly!" "You may mock as much as you like. Where is she?" "Where, indeed?" "She left London to join his lordship. Where is he? "I do not know. He who would answer that question would be a wise man indeed." "Can I see him?" "Certainly not. He has gone away. On a long journey. By himself." "Then I shall wait for him. Here!" she added with decision. "In this house!" "By all means." She hesitated. There was an easy look about the doctor which she did not like. "I believe," she said, "that my mistress is in the house. She must be in the house. What are you going to do with her? I believe you have put her somewhere." "Indeed!" "You would do anything! I will go to the police." "If you please." "Oh! doctor, tell me where she is!" "You are a faithful servant: it is good, in these days, to find a woman so zealous on account of her mistress. Come in, good and faithful. Search the house all over. Come in--what are you afraid of? Put down your box, and go and look for your mistress." Fanny obeyed. She ran into the house, opened the doors of the salon and the dining-room one after the other: no one was there. She ran up the stairs and looked into her mistress's room: nothing was there, not even a ribbon or a hair-pin, to show the recent presence of a woman. She looked into Lord Harry's room. Nothing was there. If a woman leaves hairpins about, a man leaves his toothbrush: nothing at all was there. Then she threw open the armoire in each room: nothing behind the doors. She came downstairs slowly, wondering what it all meant. "May I look in the spare room?" she asked, expecting to be roughly refused. "By all means--by all means," said the doctor, blandly. "You know your way about. If there is anything left belonging to your mistress or to you, pray take it." She tried one more question. "How is my patient? How is Mr. Oxbye?" "He is gone." "Gone? Where has he gone to? Gone?" "He went away yesterday--Friday. He was a grateful creature. I wish we had more such grateful creatures as well as more such faithful servants. He said something about finding his way to London in order to thank you properly. A good soul, indeed!" "Gone?" she repeated. "Why, on Thursday morning I saw him--" She checked herself in time. "It was on Wednesday morning that you saw him, and he was then recovering rapidly." "But he was far too weak to travel." "You may be quite certain that I should not have allowed him to go away unless he was strong enough." Fanny made no reply. She had seen with her own eyes the man lying still and white, as if in death; she had seen the new nurse rushing off, crying that he was dead. Now she was told that he was quite well, and that he had gone away! But it was no time for thought.