"Which it's very funny," remarked the cook to Margaret, a few minutes after Mrs. Whittaker and her small portmanteau had gone off in a cab to the station, "which it's very funny. Missus have had no letter from master since the day after he went away, when she had a post-card which I took in myself and likewise read, saying, 'Arrived safe. Hope all well at home. Writing later.' Which he never have written later. There was no telegram for missus to-day?" "No," said Margaret, "there's no telegram come to this house to-day." "Then, you know, missus might have been rung up on the telephone from the office." "She might, but I've not heard her on the telephone all day, and I've not heard the telephone go once. Anyway, missus she have gone to Paris to join master, and I'm sure, poor lady, I hope she won't find a pretty to-do when she gets there." It was barely half an hour later when Maudie Marksby's motor brougham came spinning up to the door of the house opposite. "There's Mrs. Marksby's carriage," said Margaret, craning her head over the muslin blinds that shrouded the doings of the kitchen from the passers-by. "I wonder if missus told her she was going to Paris. Oh, here she comes." Maudie herself, with her gait of swimming importance, came mincing across the road. Margaret went down to the outer porch to meet her. "Is my mother in, Margaret?" "Lor'! Mrs. Marksby, missus have gone away!" "Away! Where?" "She's gone to Paris to join master." "Did she have a telegram?" "No, miss--I beg your pardon, I mean ma'am." "Oh--oh--she's gone to Paris, has she? Well, it's no use my waiting then, is it?" "What did she look like?" said the cook. "She looked struck all of a heap," said Margaret. "It's my opinion that missus has taken French leave, and she's going to steal a march on them both." Meanwhile, Regina, full of her stern resolve, was already on her way to Dover, not being minded to wait for the regular boat train, and perhaps risk a scene from one or other of her daughters, finding her on the platform and attempting to dissuade her from taking the fatal step. "I must be firm, I must be resolute, I must know exactly what I'm going to do," she told herself as the luxurious train whizzed past the suburbs. "I will have a good dinner when I get to Dover; I wish to arrive in Paris as calm and unmoved as a rock."