To save appearances even before her servants--a somewhat useless consideration then--as even without the usual sharpness of their class they must now be aware of the fact that something unpleasant was on the _tapis_, and that their mistress had, unexplainedly, been absent from her own home for a whole night and longer; as the train approached the capital, Maude smoothed her sunny-brown hair, adjusted her laces, and bathed her pale face with _eau-de-cologne_. Oh, how grimy the process made her handkerchief after the dust of her long and double journey! The afternoon of the day was well advanced when Maude, still paler, weary, unslept, and unrefreshed, faint from want of food and the wear and tear of her own terrible thoughts, arrived once more at the pretty villa Jack's love had temporarily provided for her. The blinds were all closed as if death were in its walls, and her heart died within her. She rushed up to her room; it might just be the case that Jack might not have returned, and she might still find the packet she had addressed to him and her incoherent letter of farewell. Is she in time? Yes--a letter is there--a packet on her toilet-table; she _is_ in time--and makes a snatch of it. It is addressed not to her but to Hester Maule at Merlwood; so Jack had been there and was gone, as were also his portmanteaux, his sword, and helmet-case. In wild and vague search she moved swiftly from room to room. 'Jack--Jack!' she called in a low voice that sounded strangely resonant in the silent rooms; but there was no answer, nor did any sound evince that he was in her vicinity. A chill crept over her, and she strove in vain to shake it off as her wondering servants gathered round her, and from them she soon learned all. Their master had returned late last night--had got her letter, and, after a time, had driven away to catch the first early train for London--on his way to Egypt, he simply said. Egypt! His train must have passed her somewhere on the line. Where was she to seek him--where telegraph to him? Who was to advise her now? He had made up a packet of her letters, her rings, and other little mementos she had left, with a brief and certainly incoherent note to Hester Maule; addressed it with a tremulous hand and carefully sealed it with his familiar signet, bearing the baton or on a bend engrailed of the Elliots of Braidielee; and then, throwing himself into a cab, had driven away with no other trace than his farewell words given to the startled domestics.