“No, Alphonse. Go and get it--at Greenwich, or Wapping, or wherever it lives. Leave at once. Be back at six-thirty. Good-bye, Alphonse.” “A lady in the case! I will find ze shrimp!” said Alphonse, as he left the parlour. Frank remained to be dealt with. The Duke summoned him, and addressed him with a serious air. “You are attached to me, Frank?” “Yes, your Grace.” “I wish to be alone to-day. Have the goodness to occupy Mrs Hordern’s attention.” “I don’t rightly know how to do it, your Grace.” “What day of the week is it?” “Sunday, your Grace.” “A fortunate circumstance. One doesn’t dig on Sundays?” “No, your Grace.” “The rain may stop for all I care,” said the Duke. “Go and call on Mrs Hordern, Frank, and get taken to church. Mitigate your mental inferiority to a reasonable extent; and say that the man with the fever has been removed.” “How, your Grace?” asked Frank. “Don’t trouble me with details. Do as I tell you.” “Very good, your Grace.” “And let Miss Hordern arrive here at seven a’clock.” “Yes, your Grace.” “That will do, Frank. I shall not go out to-day. Leave the corduroys on the bed.” “Thank you, your Grace.” “And, Frank, in case I change my mind, let there be a motor-car here and a table at the Savoy this evening, rather late.” “I’ll attend to it at once, your Grace.” There was more work than usual at the local telegraph office before ten that morning. But no one connected it with the cottage at the allotments. The young woman in charge understood that a gentleman had lost his motor-car. The simple device of sticking on his door a short notice that a case of infectious disease awaited removal to the workhouse infirmary secured for the Duke a quiet day. He sat behind his blind and observed his neighbours, who, in the intervals left them between the claims of devotion and those of conviviality, inspected their allotments and his. His appeared to the Duke to command a disproportionate amount of attention. He feared that he must have dug up something prematurely--Frank had omitted to acquaint him with the course of husbandry initiated by his predecessor. The laughter of his neighbours somewhat jarred his sensitive spirit. And they certainly stared a lot at his shut door, his forbidding notice, and his blind so carefully drawn. He was also vexed by a sudden thought that, it being Sunday, Miss Angela might have to go to church and would not come to tea. “However I made my wishes quite clear to Frank,” he murmured, hoping for the best. At one o’clock Frank returned by a circular route, and entered from the road, through the back-yard, which obviated the necessity of crossing the allotments. He served a cold luncheon. “You’ve arranged matters?” “Yes, your Grace. The young lady will call at seven, with some jelly for your bad throat.” “I was rather afraid she might wish to go to church, Frank.”