Dr. Whitlett was ushered in. They all three looked down upon the Admiral, and the doctor asked a few rapid questions. There was certainly a great change in his face. A strong line or two had disappeared, the countenance was milder and younger. It was like the face of a child. Wolfenden was afraid to see the eyes open, he seemed already in imagination to picture to himself their vacant, unseeing light. Dr. Whitlett shook his head sadly. "I am afraid," he said gravely, "that when Lord Deringham recovers he will remember nothing! He has had a severe shock, and there is every indication that his mind has given way." Wolfenden drew his teeth together savagely. This, then, was the result of Mr. Sabin's visit. CHAPTER XXXIV BLANCHE MERTON'S LITTLE PLOT At about four o'clock in the afternoon, as Helène was preparing to leave the Lodge, a telegram was brought in to her from Mr. Sabin. "I have succeeded and am now _en route_ for London. You had better follow when convenient, but do not be later than to-morrow." She tore it into small pieces and hummed a tune. "It is enough," she murmured. "I am not ambitious any longer. I am going to London, it is true, my dear uncle, but not to Kensington! You can play Richelieu to Henri and my cousin, if it pleases you. I wonder----" Her face grew softer and more thoughtful. Suddenly she laughed outright to herself. She went and sat down on the couch, where Wolfenden had been lying. "It would have been simpler," she said to herself. "How like a man to think of such a daring thing. I wish--I almost wish--I had consented. What a delightful sensation it would have made. Cécile will laugh when I tell her of this. To her I have always seemed ambitious, and ambitious only ... and now I have found out that I have a heart only to give it away. _Hélas!_" There was a knock at the door. A servant entered. "Miss Merton would be glad to know if you could spare her a moment before you left, Miss," the man announced. Helène glanced at the clock. "I am going very shortly," she said; "she had better come in now." The man withdrew, but returned almost immediately, ushering in Miss Merton. For the first time Helène noticed how pretty the girl was. Her trim, dainty little figure was shown off to its utmost advantage by the neat tailor gown she was wearing, and there was a bright glow of colour in her cheeks. Helène, who had no liking for her uncle's typewriter, and who had scarcely yet spoken to her, remained standing, waiting to hear what she had to say. "I wanted to see Mr. Sabin," she began. "Can you tell me when he will be back?" "He has gone to London," Helène replied. "He will not be returning here at all." The girl's surprise was evidently genuine.