Turning over the page she discovered the second item of intelligence, which riveted her attention immediately and sent her thoughts flying in another direction. It was under the heading of Wills and Bequests, and merely stated that the will of Mrs. Jane Bodley-Chard had been proved at seventy-five thousand pounds, the greater part of which passed to her husband, who was her sole executor. By the time Isla had come out of the reverie induced by the reading of these paragraphs the omnibus had rolled her to her destination. She alighted at the Marble Arch, crossed the way, and proceeded quickly along the Edgeware Road until she reached the end of the street where she had first seen Malcolm with the purple lady. She had not made a note of the address, but she remembered it vividly, and she made no mistake about the number. Her slightly hesitating ring was answered by a person who seemed to be a charwoman, and who, in reply to her inquiry for Mrs. Bisley, shook her head. "She ain’t ’ere, Miss." "But can’t you tell me where she is, or at least how long she has been gone?" "Oh, she ain’t bin gone long--only since this mornin’. Are you a friend of ’ers?" she asked, peering rather inquisitively into Isla’s face. "At least I can claim to know her, and I particularly wished to see her to-day." "Well, you carn’t. She’s gone to Scotland. She was orful upset this mornin’ by sumfink she saw in the papers, and she went orf all of a ’eap, like, not even takin’ proper luggage wiv ’er. Said she didn’t know w’en she’d be back." Isla turned away, so sick at heart that her dismay was visible on her face. "I don’t know nothink, but it’s got summat to do wiv that military gent. she knew in India. A toff, ’e was, and she expected to marry ’im, don’t you see? And ’e’es given ’er the slip--leastways that’s wot I think. But, of course, I don’t know nothink for certing, and you needn’t say as I said anythink. I didn’t hev no call fer to say anythink, reely." Isla thanked her and turned away. She was just one day too late. What could she do now? Even if she were to hasten by the night train to Glenogle, what could she do there? A meeting between Vivien and this woman seemed inevitable. At least Malcolm would have to explain his position and, if possible, justify himself. Just for one brief moment she regretted having acted on the swift impulse to leave the pleasant sanctuary she had found by the Mediterranean Sea. What good had she done, or could she do? She had only once more committed the mistake of thinking that she could arbitrate in the destiny of others--she, who had so sadly mismanaged her own! She crept dejectedly along the street, still clutching the paper in her hand, and when she reached the wider thoroughfare crossed it in a slanting direction and, as if through force of habit, turned in at Cromer Street and made her way to Agnes Fraser’s familiar door.