In this undreamed of development of Lord Ingleby's return, he anticipated finding her gently acquiescent; eagerly ready to resume again the duties of wifehood; with no thought of herself, but filled with anxious desire in all things to please the man who, with his whims and fancies, his foibles and ideas, had for nine months passed completely out of her life. Deryck Brand had expected to find Lady Ingleby in the mood of a typical April day, sunshine and showers rapidly alternating; whimsical smiles, succeeded by ready tears; then, with lashes still wet, gay laughter at some mistake of her own, or at incongruous behaviour on the part of her devoted but erratic household; speedily followed by pathetic anxiety over her own supposed short-comings in view of Lord Ingleby's requirements on his return. Instead of this charming personification of unselfish, inconsequent, tender femininity, the doctor found himself confronted by a calm cold woman, with hard unseeing eyes; a woman in whom something had died; and dying, had slain all the best and truest in her womanhood. "Another man," was the prompt conclusion at which the doctor arrived; and this conclusion, coupled with the exigency of his own pressing engagements, brought him without preamble, very promptly to the point. "Lady Ingleby," he said, "a cruel and heartless wrong has been done you by a despicable scoundrel, for whom no retribution would be too severe." "I am perfectly aware of that," replied Lady Ingleby, calmly; "but I fail to understand, Sir Deryck, why you should consider it necessary to come down here in order to discuss it." This most unexpected reply for a moment completely nonplussed the doctor. But rapid mental adjustment formed an important part of his professional equipment. "I fear we are speaking at cross-purposes," he said, gently. "Forgive me, if I appear to have trespassed upon a subject of which I have no knowledge whatever. I am referring to the telegram received by you yesterday, which led you to suppose the report of Lord Ingleby's death was a mistake, and that he might shortly be returning home." "My husband is alive," said Lady Ingleby. "He has telegraphed to me from Cairo, and I expect him back very soon." For answer, Deryck Brand drew from his pocket-book two telegrams. "I am bound to tell you at once, dear Lady Ingleby," he said, "that you have been cruelly deceived. The message from Cairo was a heartless fraud, designed in order to obtain money. Billy Cathcart had reason to suspect its genuineness, and brought it to me. I cabled at once to Cairo, with this result." He laid two telegrams on the table before her. "The first is a copy of one we sent yesterday to a detective out there. The second I received three hours ago. No one--not even Billy--has heard of its arrival. I have brought it immediately to you." Lady Ingleby slowly lifted the paper containing the first message. She read it in silence.