“Not in the least, Mr. Savage. We delight in traveling alone. Do you see the baroness anywhere, Frances?” Mr. Savage stared in amazement. A distinct, blighting frost settled over the whole September world and his smile lost all but its breadth. The joy left his eyes and his heart like a flash, but his lips helplessly, witlessly maintained a wide-open hospitality until long after the inspiration was dead. “She is not here, I am afraid,” responded Lady Saxondale, glancing through the hurrying crowd. “Have you seen the Baroness St. Auge, Mr. Savage? Or do you know her?” “I can't say that I have--er--I mean don't--no, I should say both,” murmured he distractedly. “Does she live here?” “She resides in a house, not in a railway station,” observed Lady Jane, with a cutting sarcasm of which she was rather proud. Lady Saxondale turned her face away and buried a convulsive smile in her handkerchief. “I mean in Brussels,” floundered Dickey, his wits in the wind. He was gazing dumbly at the profile of the slim iceberg that had so sharply sent the blast of winter across the summer of his content. “She certainly understood that we were to come on this train, Frances. You telegraphed her,” said Lady Jane, ignoring him completely. She raised herself on her dainty tiptoes, elevated her round little chin and tried to peer over the heads of a very tall and disobliging multitude. Dickey, at a loss for words, stretched his neck also in search of the woman he did not know. “How very annoying,” said Lady Saxondale, a faint frown on her brow. “She is usually so punctual.” “Perhaps she--er--didn't get your telegram,” ventured Dickey. “What sort of a looking--I mean, is she old or young?” “Neither; she is just my age,” smiled Lady Saxondale. Dickey dumbly permitted the rare chance for a compliment to slip by. “Jane, won't you and Mr. Savage undertake a search for her? I will give William directions regarding the luggage.” She turned to the man and the maids, and Mr. Savage and Lady Disdain were left to work out their salvation as best they could. “I can't think of troubling you, Mr. Savage. It won't be necessary for you to dodge around in this crowd to--” “No trouble, I assure you, Lady Jane. Be glad to do it, in fact. Where shall we go first?” demanded he, considerably flurried. “You go that way and I'll go this. We'll find her more easily,” said she, relentlessly, indicating the directions. “But I don't know her,” he cried. “How unfortunate! Would you know her if I were to describe her to you? Well, she's tall and very fair. She's also beautiful. She's quite stunning. I'm sure you'll know her.” She was starting away when he confronted her desperately. “You'll have to go with me. I'll be arrested for addressing the wrong lady if I go alone, and you'll suffer the mortification of seeing them drag me off to jail.” “The what? Why do you say mortification, Mr. Savage? I am quite sure--”