She rose to her feet at once, and moved towards the door. I was left alone with my father, but he never stirred during her absence, nor did I speak to him. She returned in a few minutes, dressed very quietly, and wearing a veil which completely obscured her features. We walked to the corner of the square, and then I called a hansom. "I know nothing about Lord Blenavon," she said, a little wearily. "I suppose the Duke will not believe that, but it is true." "You can do no more than tell the truth," I remarked. "Tell me what he is like--the Duke?" she asked abruptly. "He is a typical man of his class," I answered. "He is stiff, obstinate, punctilious, with an extreme sense of honour, to gratify which, by-the-bye, he has just deliberately pauperized himself. He will not remind you in the least of Lord Blenavon." "I should imagine not," she answered. Then there was a short silence, and I could see that she was crying under her veil. I laid my hand upon hers. "I am afraid," I said gently, "that I have misled you a little. You are worrying about me, and it isn't half so necessary as you imagine. You thought me mad to listen to my father's offer, and a coward to give up those papers to Ray. Isn't that so?" My words seemed to electrify her. She pushed up her veil and looked at me eagerly. "Well? Go on!" she exclaimed. "There are some things," I said, "which I have made up my mind to tell no one. But at least I can assure you of this. I am not nearly in so desperate a position as you and Colonel Ray seem to think." She caught hold of my hand and grasped it convulsively. The hard lines seemed to have fallen away from her face. She smiled tremulously. "Oh, I am glad!" she declared. "I am glad!" Just then a carriage passed us, and I saw Lady Angela lean a little forward in her seat as though to gain a better view of us. CHAPTER XXXV ANGELA'S CONFESSION The Duke was in his study awaiting our arrival. I saw him rise and bow stiffly to my stepmother. Then I closed the door and left them alone. I wandered through the house, a little at a loss to know what to do with myself. It was too soon to go to Ray, and the work on which I was engaged was all in the study. Just as I passed the drawing-room door, however, it opened suddenly, and Lady Angela came out, talking to a white-haired old gentleman, who carried a stick on which he leaned heavily. He looked at me rather curiously, and then began to hobble down the hall at a great pace. But Lady Angela laid her hand upon his arm. "Why, Sir Michael," she exclaimed, "this won't do at all. You can't look him in the face and run. Mr. Ducaine, this is Sir Michael Trogoldy." He swung round and held out his hand. His eyes searched my face eagerly.