"To J.A. SETTER, Police Station, Old Church Court, Kensington, London: Shall leave for London by this midnight express-train. Is she quite well? Answer immediately. HEREWARD." The operator took the message with a bow. The click of the instrument was soon heard, as the message, with the speed of light, flew on its errand. "Will you remain here until I can receive an answer?" inquired the duke, as soon as the sound ceased. "I should be happy to accommodate your grace; but if there should be no answer, say up to twelve o'clock?" suggested the young man. "In that case I should not ask you to remain; as you must know by my telegram that I am to take the train for London at that hour." "Certainly, your grace; but I thought it possible that you might wish the message taken to some other person in the event of your absence." "Not at all. I want it for myself alone. If it does not come before twelve I shall have no use for it." "Then I will remain here until midnight, if necessary; but it may not be necessary." "And you shall set your own price upon your time," said the duke. "Thanks, your grace; I am happy to be able to accommodate you; and would prefer to leave all other considerations to yourself," said the young man, very politely and--politicly. Even while they spoke, a warning vibration of the wires was perceived, followed by the _click, click, click_, of the instrument. "There is a message coming--most probably an answer to yours, though it is very soon to get one," said the operator, as he turned to give his whole attention to his work. The duke looked on with breathless eagerness. As soon as the sound ceased, the operator drew off the message and handed it to the duke, who seized it and hastily read; "LONDON, October, 31st, 7 P.M. "TO THE DUKE OF HEREWARD, LONE, N.B.: She is perfectly well. "J.A. SETTER." "Thank Heaven! I breathe freely now!" said the young duke to himself, as he arose from his seat. He liberally rewarded the telegraph operator, and then left the office and walked back to the inn. The Arondelle Arms was all alive with excitement. More travellers had come down from Banff, and the inn was crowded, principally by men of the Clan Scott. Every room was filled, every window lighted up. The bar and the tap room reeked. The duke was making his way through the crowd as best he might, when he was met by the landlord, who bowed, and apologized, and finally offered to conduct his grace by a private entrance to the parlor connected with the duke's own reserved suit of apartments. "An' noo, what will your grace hae to your supper?" hospitably inquired the host, as soon as his guest was comfortably seated in his arm-chair before the fire. "Anything at all, so that it is cleanly served, for which I can, of course, trust the Arondelle Arms," said the duke, smiling. The landlord bowed and went out. The duke leaned back in his chair, and stretched his feet to the genial warmth of the fire.