"Physic," said Tom, sharply. "Have you secured rooms for us?" "Of course not. Only just knew you were coming." "Then ring for the landlord; I shall now continue the search myself. I have been much to blame in leaving it in other hands so long. But a weak woman--" "Who is?" said Tom, innocently. "I am, sir," replied her ladyship. "I was not aware, when I entrusted the search to my husband and son, that it was to be made an excuse for a pleasant and expensive continental tour, with no results whatever but the shrinking of a good balance at the bank, and a fit of gout?" "Oh, bosh!" ejaculated Tom. "No more gadding about; no more Burgundy and strong drinks. I mean to find that wretched girl myself; the authorities shall intervene, and I will do my duty as a mother." "What shall you do?" "Place her in a madhouse as sure as I stand here." "Then you will not," said Tom, "for you're sitting." "Reserve your ribald jestings, sir, till we return to town." "All right," cried Tom; "then let me speak in a downright manner, my dear mother. You can do just as you please, but I am now on the scent, which I shall keep to myself; and I tell you this, old lady, I will not have Maude--whatever her faults--ill-used." "Hear, hear!" cried Lord Barmouth; but then he had had four glasses of wine. "Barmouth!" "_Yes_--yes, my dear." "Oh, what language, and to a mother!" "There, there, stop that," cried Tom. "We are not at home, but at an hotel, and the people won't understand tragic amateur acting." "Tryphie, my child," cried her ladyship, after giving her son an annihilating look, "come with me to our own apartments. Lord Barmouth, summon the waiter, or no, come with me. Tryphie, you can ring and order _dejeuner_, I wish to speak to these people in the hotel. I think I can obtain some information here." Lord Barmouth cast a despairing look at his son, and followed her ladyship into the hall, while Tom had just seized the opportunity, and Tryphie at the same moment, to embrace her in spite of a certain amount of resistance, when there was a loud "Oh!" and he turned to find that Charley Melton had entered the room. "You here, Charley! Why, my dear old chap!" They shook hands warmly, Tryphie following suit, and the pretty little face flushed with pleasure and confusion. "Why, Charley, you here!" cried Tom. "Stop, I know; you need not say a word." "You know?" "Yes. How long have you been on the continent? Stop, you need not answer. Ever since my sister eloped." The young man bowed his head. "And you've been after her all the time." Melton bowed again. "Then it was doosed good of you, Charley; but I don't see what we are to do, old man. It's very horrible for all of us, but I can't see what is to be done. I came out with the intention of dragging her home, but if the poor girl is infatuated with the fellow our cause is lost." "What do you propose doing then?" said Melton, hoarsely.