The Senator was not young, and in no mind to wait, besides which he was anxious to get back to his own country, so, as the lady’s wishes appeared to coincide with his own, they arranged matters to their mutual satisfaction that evening, and in a fortnight were married at a registrar’s office in London, without anyone but themselves being the wiser for the transaction. Lucille had pleaded for secrecy, lest her friends should interfere to prevent her leaving England, and the colonel had arrived at that age when a man detests all publicity and fuss. So Mme. de Vigny was transformed into Mrs. Colonel Clutterbuck as if by magic, and went home to the Langham Hotel with her husband, as if they had been married for twenty years. Four days after a well-known steamer was to start from Liverpool for New York, and their cabins were already secured on board of her. “And now!” said Lucille, with a winning smile, the day before they started, “you must let me run down into Suffolk, colonel, and fetch my little nephew.” “Suffolk? That’s a long way,” said Colonel Clutterbuck. “Hadn’t I better go for you?” “Oh, no! no! I couldn’t hear of it. The little fellow would be frightened out of his senses at the sight of a stranger. He is terribly sensitive. I can never coax him away, but by pretending we are going to meet his poor, dear mother.” “Very well, Mrs. Clutterbuck, have it your own way,” replied the colonel, who was beaming with pride in the possession of so handsome a wife. So Lucille, armed with Lord Francis Onslow’s card, traveled down on the following day to Felixstowe, where Jacynth’s sister, Mrs. Grandison, was staying with her own son and little Ronny. This was the Frenchwoman’s revenge. She had heard while at Harrogate of Ronny’s destination, and knew that in so small a place she would experience little difficulty in finding out which house was occupied by Mrs. Grandison. She disliked children (as most women of her stamp do), but she felt she could wreak no bitterer vengeance on Lord Francis Onslow and his wife than by depriving them of their son and heir, so dearly loved by both of them. Her marriage had been conducted so secretly that she was most unlikely to be recognized as Mrs. Clutterbuck, and once she had got the boy to America she believed that (virtually) he would be lost. What was to follow after that, or whether the game would be worth the candle to her, she never stayed to consider. Mrs. Grandison, while engaged over her mid-day meal with the children, was much surprised to hear that a lady wished to speak to her. Still more so when, on entering the drawing room, she saw the fashionably attired Mrs. Clutterbuck. “You are doubtless surprised to receive a call from a perfect stranger, madam,” commenced Lucille, with her charming accent; “but time did not permit me to prepare you for my appearance. I come as a messenger from Lord Francis Onslow. I am an intimate friend of his, and of his poor dear wife!”