Bulstrode, at the blindness of a man regarding his own intentions, smiled behind his cigar. "Well?" he helped. "I went over to France," said the Duke--"and I suppose you'll scarcely believe a man who you say is not a lover to be capable of such sentimentality--simply, if possible, to have a sight of my wife, to see her go out of the door, or to see her go in, to see her possibly get into a carriage; and how did I know that it would not be with another man?" "How did you find out that she had left?" "I asked for her at her hôtel." "The first question, then," Jimmy smiled. "A fair one?" "Oh, perfectly." "I was told that the Duchess had left Paris months before." "And then?" the other man's voice was placid as he spoke for the Duke. "Then you went to her bankers, her bakers and candlestick makers; in short, you asked all over the place, didn't you?" The Duke swore gently. "Well, what would you have a man do?" "Why I would have him do that," nodded Jimmy, "by all means. Any man would have done so." In the half second of interval whilst the Duke was obliged to swallow his friend's sarcasm, Bulstrode had time to think: "Here I am, once more in the heart of an intrigue. Its fetters are all about me and I am wretchedly bound by honor not to do the simple, natural thing." Then he asked boldly: "Well, what do you think about it, Westboro'?" "Think?" Westboro' repeated, "why, that she has deliberately escaped from me, put herself out of any possible reach; she doesn't want a reconciliation and she has gone away. She may have gone away alone and she may not, that I don't know, and I don't believe I want to know." "Oh, you'll find her." It was with the most delightful security and contentment that his friend was able to tell the Duke this. But the cheerful note struck the poor husband the disagreeablest of blows. "Gad!" he laughed, "what a cold brand of creature a bachelor is! 'Find her!' as one might speak of finding an umbrella that you've left by mistake at your club. Of course she can be found. There are not many mysteries that search can't solve in these days. And Duchesses don't drop off the face of the earth. I could no doubt have found her in twenty-four hours, but I didn't try to. I don't know that I want to find her. It isn't the fact of where she's gone that counts--that she wanted to go--that she has voluntarily made the separation final and complete." "Then," persisted the bachelor, "you don't really _want_ to find her?" "Jove!" the Duke turned on him. "You don't know what it is to love a woman! You've got some imagination--try to use it, can't you? Can't you?" He met the American's handsome eyes. A flush rose under Bulstrode's cheek. Westboro' put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "I beg your pardon, dear old chap." "Oh, that's all right, old chap," Bulstrode assured cheerfully.