"I have no idea," he replied; "there is no clue, no indication in her letter--nothing but the terrible, bare truth; and I don't know whether she has money with her or not." "She had a private banking account, I know, among the other luxuries of her _vie de princesse,_" said Lady Henmarsh with a spiteful emphasis; "you had better see to its condition. I have no doubt she has gone to Mrs. Stanbourne. It is unfortunate; and she is foolish to have made such a scandal as, let us all keep the matter as close as we may, it must make, for it will not be easily lived down by her, or forgotten by the world. However, it cannot be helped; she must only come back, and propitiate society more than ever." Robert hardly heard her; his thoughts were far distant, in pursuit of the beloved fugitive. The trivial talk of the woman of the world passed him by unheeded. He roused himself to tell Lady Henmarsh what were the arrangements for the funeral of Mr. Guyon, and to utter a few sentences of kindness towards the dead man, and concern for her grief. Then he was going away, when he remembered something he had to say, and turned again to speak to her. "No papers can be removed until after the funeral," he said; "but I have looked over the greater part of poor Mr. Guyon's, and I have set aside a large packet which I consider you are the proper person to dispose of. I will send them to you carefully." Lady Henmarsh thanked him; but her manner was confused to a degree which did her habitual _sang froid_ a great wrong, and a genuine blush dyed her face from the chin to the forehead. "To think of his being such an idiot as to keep those letters," she said, when Robert had left her. "Who could have believed it? I should not be surprised if he had kept some letter, some memorandum, which has opened Kate's eyes; and if so, knowing what a devil she is when she's roused, I'm not surprised at any thing."