"I suppose," said Mrs. Scarsdale to the Consul, as their train drew out of Salisbury in the first flush of the sunrise on the morning which saw Mr. Scarsdale's liberation from durance vile--"I suppose you realise that you have exiled me from the home of my ancestors." "How so?" asked the Consul. "Why, you don't imagine that I shall ever dare to show my face at Melton Court again. Just picture to yourself her ladyship and your elephant! She will never forgive us, and will cut poor Harold off with a shilling." "That won't hurt him much, from all I've heard of her ladyship's finances," he replied. "I think," she resumed, "that I ought to be very angry with you; but I can't help laughing, it is so absurd. A bull in a china-shop would be tame compared with an elephant at Melton Court. What do you think she will do with the beast?" "Pasture it on the front lawn to keep away objectionable relatives," retorted the Consul. "But, seriously speaking, have you any definite plan of campaign?" "Certainly not. What do you suppose I carry you round for, if it is not to plan campaigns?" "Which you generally alter. You will please remember that the visit to Melton Court was entirely owing to you." "Quite, and I shall probably upset this one; but proceed." "Well, in the first place, as soon as we reach Southampton I think we had better have a good breakfast." "That is no news. You are a man; therefore you eat. Go on." "Do you object?" "Not at all. I expected it; I'll even eat with you." "Well said. After this necessary duty, I propose to go to the station and thoroughly investigate the matter of the arrival and departure of my wife and your husband." "If they were at Basingstoke we should have heard from them before this," she said; "and even if they were not, they should have telegraphed." "Very probably they did," he replied; "but, as you ought to know, there is nothing more obliging and more generally dense than an English minor official. I dare say that the key to the whole mystery is at this moment reposing, neatly done up in red tape, at the office of that disgusting little junction. But here we are at Southampton. Now for breakfast; and then the American Sherlock Holmes will sift this matter to the bottom." And the Consul, in excellent spirits, assisted her to alight. Indeed, now that the elephant had been left behind, he felt that, actually as well as metaphorically, a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Evidently," remarked Allingford, as they were finishing a breakfast in one of the cosy principal hotels--"evidently the loss of your husband has not included the loss of your appetite." "Of course it hasn't," replied Mrs. Scarsdale. "Why shouldn't I eat a good breakfast? I have no use for conventions which make one do disagreeable things just because one happens to feel miserable." "Do you feel very miserable? I thought you seemed rather cheerful on the whole," he commented.