"I----!" began Mrs. Scarsdale, rising in wrath and indignation; but before she could further complicate matters by a direct refusal, the footman had turned to Allingford, and, handing him a telegram, had left the room. Forgetful of all else, she rushed to the Consul's side as with nervous fingers he tore it open. What joyful news might it not contain! One look at his face, however, blasted all her hopes. Horror, consternation, and surprise were depicted thereon as he read the despatch. Something dreadful must have happened. "Tell me the worst!" she cried. "Is it Harold?" "It is the last straw," he replied. "Is he dead?" "I wish he was." "You wish my husband dead?" "Oh, confound your husband!" "Mr. Allingford----!" "No, no, I don't mean that. I'm not responsible for what I'm saying," he replied, and groaned aloud. But his companion was not to be put off. "Is that telegram from my husband?" "No." "From my mother-in-law?" "No." "From Aunt Eliza?" "No." "From the station-master at Basingstoke?" "Guess again." "From your Vice-Consul?" "Yes." "Has he heard anything of our lost ones?" "It has nothing to do with that." "Then what is the matter? What does it all mean?" "It means," replied the Consul, "that I've got to leave here by the first train." "Explain yourself," she demanded. "I'll try," he replied, mopping his brow. "You see, an American applied to me to lend him some money, a few days ago, and put up as collateral an elephant." "Harold told me the story. I thought it very amusing." "You won't when I've finished. The elephant arrived day before yesterday at Southampton, and, as I had informed the steamship company that I was the temporary owner of the beast, they forwarded it to my consulate at Christchurch." "How does that affect us?" "Affect us!" he cried. "Do you remember what I telegraphed my Vice-Consul?" "Yes, almost word for word," she answered. "You asked for news of the fugitives, and, on the chance of their writing to Christchurch, told him to forward here anything that might have come for you." "Exactly," shrieked the Consul; "and the blamed fool has forwarded the elephant!" "What! Here? To Melton Court?" she exclaimed, aghast. "That is what I said. The beast is on the way now, and ought to be here bright and early to-morrow morning." "How awful! What will you do?" "Get out," he replied laconically. "And leave me?" "I don't know about you, but I mean to leave the elephant. I don't wish to start a bigger circus than I have on hand already." "But would it be quite right to our hostess?" expostulated her niece. "If you've any conscientious scruples on the subject, you can stay and tend the beast. I'm leaving by the first train." "But it's your elephant." "Of course it is, and I've a right to do what I choose with it. I mean to leave it to Lady Melton, in payment for my board and lodging. After the way she's treated me I don't want to owe her anything."