"You told me in confidence, Mr. Plant. Did you send this?" Plant turned all the colours of the rainbow. "Yes," he said, desperately, and he bolted from the room and the house and disappeared, while Bob gasped, and Titania nodded her head in a most awe-inspiring manner. "Get some telegraph forms," she said. And when Bob brought them, she dictated telegrams to all the horde in the diplomatic form of identic notes. "Have received sad telegram signed Penelope’s husband. Recognize under painful circumstances he cannot reveal himself. Am much composed and have given up hope. It appears it cannot be Bunting, though Bunting is with her. Contradict this; also the rumour that it is the Rajah of Jugpore. "TITANIA GORING." "Send them," she said, "and let me rest. I presume that the right one will get it. The only trouble is that six of the wrong ones will, too." "Goby will go insane," said Bob. "I know he will. I can’t see how this will end without murder." And Titania laughed dreadfully. She laughed so queerly that Doctor Griff was sent for, and refused to allow her to see De Vere and Goby and Bramber and Gordon and Plant and Williams and Carew. The last turned up first in a hansom cab, with a large palette knife in his hand. He had forgotten to put it down. As hansom after hansom came up and discharged one furious lover after another at the steps of Titania’s town house, it looked as if Bob’s foreseen murder would occur there and then. It is possible that nothing but the timely arrival of Bradstock saved London from the desirable news of a murder in high life and Belgrave Square. He got hold of the men one by one, and sent them away. As they went, a telegraph boy came to the house with another telegram addressed to Titania. "I shall open this, Bob," said Bradstock. It was another from Pen. "Have just learnt that you and others have been trying to discover my whereabouts. If I am pursued, I shall leave and go elsewhere. This is final. PENELOPE." "From Spilsborough, Bob," said Bradstock. "She’s heard that I and Goby and Rivaulx and the others were there," said Bob. "Do you think the bishop knows where she is?" "I wouldn’t trust a bishop," said Bradstock. "I daresay he does. It is said that bishops steal Elzevirs and umbrellas, Bob. I think I shall go to Spilsborough myself. Have you seen the evening papers, Bob?" Bob had seen none of them. "Some say now that she is married to Jugpore, and others say it is a morganatic marriage to the mediatized Prince of Bodenstrau." "Oh, I say, Pen will be mad," cried Bob. "Isn’t he a real bad un?" "The very worst," said Bradstock. "And are you really going to Spilsborough, Lord Bradstock?" "I really think so," said Bradstock. "I begin to think I must do something." He stood pondering. "May I come with you?" Bradstock declined the honour.