Pamela felt an abrupt movement beside her, and glancing round, beheld Mrs. Lafone darting from the gallery like a snake disturbed. The girl drew a long breath. The air was easier to her lungs now that this miasma of malice was removed from it. His Royal Highness was most agreeably and flatteringly inebriated at the end of Kitty’s supper party. He declared thickly that it had been a most delightful evening. If he did not salute her cheek with his royal lips as he had saluted the Duchess of Hampshire, he mumbled her hand with repeated kisses. But Kitty’s triumph was not yet complete. Its culminating point was only reached when she found herself with my Lord back in the withdrawing-room of her lodgings, accompanied on her express invitation, by Mr. Stafford. She flung off her wraps and, standing in the middle of the room, with rather a tearful smile, held out a hand to each. “Denis, my love--Stafford, my old friend--we have, each of us, I dare say, things against each other to forgive and forget, but for my part ’tis all done with already.” “Ah, my Lady Kilcroney. Ah, Kitty!” cried the Beau, moved out of his wont, and pressing the little hand against his breast, before lifting it to his lips, “When I received your note warning me of the ass I would be making of myself in trying to get the better of you, I thought--dash me, I thought--there’s not a woman in the world to compare to her for generosity and wit! And how, in the name of God, did you know, Kitty?” he cried, with a change of tone. “’Pon my soul, never tell me that piece, Molly, betrayed me for an invitation?” “By no means, sir, the invitation was sent to her--well! as a little punishment. She came all agog to see my discomfiture, and Lydia, my woman, tells me she was so overset at the sight of His Highness that she swooned.” My Lord by this time had an arm about his wife’s waist. “’Twas I told me wife,” said he in his richest brogue, “of your dastardly plot, me fine fellow.” “You?” “Ay, meself and no other.” “But this is mystery upon mystery,” said Mr. Stafford, and he was really mystified. “A little bird told me,” said Kilcroney, wagging his head. Kitty interrupted, laughing. “Aye, and by the way, my Lord, ring the bell and send Pompey for that very little bird. She must not go unrewarded.” “She?” repeated Mr. Stafford. His eyebrows went up. He was perhaps not altogether amazed to see Pamela Pounce walk into the room. “Come here, child,” said my Lady, and picked from her bodice a pretty, sparkling brooch. “Wear this for my sake in remembrance of to-night. As for me,” her light voice deepened, “I shall never forget your good sense and courage. She guessed you were planning some mischief with your charming sister-in-law, Mr. Stafford, sir, and having to tie her bandboxes outside the door, she caught some whispers of your little game.” “Oho!” said Mr. Stafford. “I listened,” cried Pamela with flaming cheeks, “and I went straight to my Lord here and my Lord----”