The Duke walked briskly off—Lord Baltimore hesitating an instant, then followed him. The lady in a wrapper and cap that had seen more coquettish days herself opened the door and received the salutations of the gentlemen with the utmost astonishment. “You see me very unprepared for company, my Lords,” says she curtseying and holding the door so as to bar entrance. “What’s your pleasure?” “A word with you, Madam,” replies the Duke sternly. “We will follow you to your room if you will be so obliging as lead the way.” She hung on her foot a moment as if demurring, and glanced doubtfully at Baltimore. His face was a shut door, and seeing no help, she turned and preceded them. The room indeed was little fit for such courtly company. Not, as I have said, that ’twas in itself despicable, but her belongings were littered about in most admired disorder. She must drag a satin manteau off one chair and a sprigged gown of handsome stuff from another before she could request them to be seated. They however preferring to stand, she begged to know their business, perplexed beyond measure to see them in company and striving to guess her course from Baltimore’s face so resolutely turned away. “My business is simple enough,” says the Duke. “Be so good, Madam, as tell me what you know of Mrs. Fenton’s departure from the playhouse, last night.” “I, your Grace? Nothing. What should I know? I would have you remember I was discharged by Mr. Rich upon some dislike Mrs. Fenton took to me. I thought it unjust, I own. I don’t love the lady, to be plain with you. But what’s come to her?” “There is a doubt as to her present situation. You will be handsomely paid for any light you may throw upon it.” “Money? Take your money elsewhere, your Grace. And if you want news of Mrs. Fenton, there’s one man can give it you better than any. He stands beside you.” She pointed, like an actress, a tragedy finger at Baltimore. Sure a man of his reputation with women could easy enough stand a charge that would but add to his dazzle in the town. She little thought how she served his turn however by the assertion. He stepped forward instantly. “My Lord Duke, this woman knows what she says. I am the man that has the best right to Mrs. Fenton’s whereabouts. All the playhouse knows this. But I am at sea— She is robbed from me, on the very eve of her placing herself openly under my protection. For God’s sake, Mrs. Bishop, be open if you have aught to tell.” ’Twas partly real, partly acting. She saw her chance to wound and sprang at it. “I will be open my Lord. ’Tis true she was your Polly. Your Polly, but other men’s Polly also. And I can only suppose that she’s now gone off with one of them. Yet ’tis possible she may take up with you again one day if you’re prepared to share your interest in her with others.” “She knows nothing!” cried Baltimore. “’Tis but her malicious anger.”