"I guess she must be somewhere in this neighbourhood," said Plant. "And here I stay till I find her. And by the tail of the sacred bull, whatever happens, I’ll marry her right here in this hyer noble pile of a cathedral. And if she’ll do it, I’ll restore it for the authorities free of charge, till it’s as gawdy as a breastpin and right up to date." He ran against Gordon, and the two men fell back in horrible surprise. "You—" "You!" "Oh, yes," said Plant, "I’m here on business connected with the cathedral." "And I’m to see the—bishop, who will join the board on allotment," mumbled Gordon. And then Goby roared into town on his motorcar. The others saw him, and he saw them, and ignored them palely. He, too, put up at the Grand, but never spoke to them. And De Vere came in while they were at dinner, and sat down opposite to Goby. He said, "Oh!" and, rising, at once bolted from the table. "I’m damned," said Goby, and he lost his appetite. "How many more of us?" they asked themselves. They looked up at every one who entered. "Bramber will be in any moment," said Plant. Poor De Vere sat in his bedroom and was ill. "If I look out into the corridor, I know I shall see that beast Williams," he sobbed. "Where’s that French fool, Rivaulx?" asked Gordon. They all believed the other was the scoundrel of the dreadful drama. And then the evening papers came in. They declared in big lines that there had been "A Fracas in High Life." They added that it had taken place in the Row at four o’clock that very afternoon. They went on to say that Lord Bramber and the Marquis de Rivaulx, well known as a great sportsman and a balloonist, had fought in a flower-bed, and had been torn from each other’s arms and a big rhododendron by two dukes, three earls, and a viscount. They further declared that it was a matter of public notoriety that all the trouble rose out of the mystery connected with the _Times_ and Lady Penelope Brading. They promised more details in later editions. "They’ll fight," said Gordon, savagely. "I hope they’ll kill each other. But especially I hope that the marquis will be killed first and most!" And about eleven o’clock Rivaulx turned up with his chauffeur and a bad black eye. "He shall fight me here," said Rivaulx. "This is a quiet town. No one will think of Spilsborough! He does not know that _she_ sent me a telegram from here!"