The door of the little boudoir where he had left her was shut fast, and he knocked softly thrice without receiving any answer. At last, fancying that the girl must have fallen asleep, he opened it with a certain hesitation and peered in, naturally glancing first toward the sofa, where he had seen her last, reclining helplessly back among the cushions. She was not there. Somewhat alarmed now, he walked boldly in, and searched even behind the curtains, thinking, perhaps, her ladyship was coquetting with his fears, and enjoying his discomfiture from her hiding-place. But she was not there, or anywhere, so far as he could perceive, and he paused in great perplexity. Had the Teignmouths chanced to call while he was away, and carried her off? This seemed the most feasible solution of the mystery, considering the state she was in, and he was about to adopt it, when he suddenly caught sight of a little three-cornered note lying on the table which he had placed beside Lady Gwendolyn’s couch. It was addressed to “Colonel Dacre,” and, tearing it open eagerly, he read the following words, whose expressiveness was only equaled by their laconicism: “I have found out your secret at last. Adieu.” CHAPTER III. A RUSE DE GUERRE. Colonel Dacre stood quite still for several minutes, holding Lady Gwendolyn’s letter in his hand, and so completely stunned by the misfortune that had come upon him, he could scarcely realize its magnitude as yet. Had Lady Gwendolyn’s accident been a mere pretense and blind? And, if so, had she any excuse for her deception? These were the two questions he put to himself the moment he could reason. There was only one thing that could have justified such a course of action on Lady Gwendolyn’s part; and if she had had this motive, he was ready to forgive her. He would not judge her, then, until they had met and he had interrogated her, when, even if her tongue labored to deceive him still, he should know the truth by her eyes. But he could not present himself at the Castle a second time that day, and he might have betrayed Lady Gwendolyn by so doing; as there was just the chance that she had been able to get home without Lord and Lady Teignmouth knowing anything about her little adventure. He must wait, therefore, until the morrow for a solution of the double mystery, trying as the suspense was. Before the household was astir he got up, plunged into a cold bath to freshen himself a little, and then went out into the lanes, which he paced up and down until breakfast-time. The meal was a farce--he was much too excited to eat; but he thought it necessary to sit down to table, and help himself from one of the savory little dishes which the butler forced upon his notice. He did not care to set them gossiping in the servants’ hall; and Graham had already remarked, with the freedom of an old retainer, that “he feared his master must have had a bad night, since he had risen so much earlier than usual.”