Taking my letter to the house in which Madge lived, I asked for her maid, telling the house servant I would wait at the street door: for, as I did not wish to meet any of the three ladies, I considered it safer to entrust the letter to Madge's own woman. The girl came down; but I had no sooner handed her the letter, and told her what to do with it, than I heard Madge's voice in the hall above. She had come out to see who wanted her maid, suspecting some trick of Falconer's; and, leaning over the stair-rail, had recognised my voice. "What is it, Bert? Why don't you come up?" "I can't--I'm in haste," I blundered. "Good morning!" "But wait! What's wrong? A moment, I entreat! Nay, you shall--!" And at that she came tripping swiftly down the stairs. The maid, embarrassed, handed her the letter. Without opening it, she advanced to me, while I was wildly considering the propriety of taking to my heels; and demanded: "What is it you had to write? Sure 'tis your own hand. Why can't you tell me?" "Not so loud," I begged. "My mother and Fanny mustn't know till I am gone." "Gone!" With this she tore open the letter, and seemed to grasp its general sense in a glance. "A duel! I suspected--from what Philip said. Oh, my God, was he--?" She scanned the writing wildly, but in her excitement it conveyed nothing to her mind. "Captain Falconer will not annoy you again," I said, "and Philip and I must go to France for awhile. Good-bye! Let mother and Fanny see the letter in half an hour." "But wait--thank God, he's not hurt!--France, you say? How? Which road?" She was holding my coat lapel, to make me stay and tell her. So I answered: "By post to Hastings; there we shall get the Doughty boys to--" At this, there broke in another voice from above stairs--that of Fanny: "Is that Bert, Madge dear?" "Tell her 'no,'" I whispered, appalled at thought of a leave-taking, explanations, weeping, and delay. "And for God's sake, let me--ah, thank you! Read the letter--you shall hear from us--God bless you all!" The next moment I was speeding from the house, leaving Madge in a tumult of thoughts at the door. I turned into Gerrard Street without looking back; and brisk walking soon brought me to the Strand, where Philip himself was just ready to take the post-chaise. "A strange thing delayed me," said he, as we forthwith took our seats in the vehicle; which we had no sooner done than the postilions set the four horses going and our journey was begun. "What was it?" I asked, willing to reserve the account of my interview with Madge till later.