Michael Dorn shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows? I shall discover later.” “Where is Lois now?” “That is exactly what I want to know. I’m going to Chester Square right away. Will you come with me?” She was out of the room in a flash. “But, Mr. Dorn, this is a terrible thing you say; that any person should conspire against the life of that innocent lassie!” said old Mackenzie, horrified. “You will surely find Miss Reddle at the good countess’ home.” “I hope so, but I very much doubt it, Mr. Mackenzie,” said Michael. The old man’s lips were tremulous. “Is there anything I can do? It is not my habit to leave the house, but I would even take that step----” Michael shook his head. “I am afraid you can do nothing, except in the unlikely event of Miss Reddle returning here. You will see that she does not go out again, and that she does not receive visitors in any circumstances. I very much doubt,” he smiled faintly, “whether you will be called upon to render this help. I can only wish to heaven that you will be!” Lizzy was down in a very short time, dressed for the street, and, as they drove towards Chester Square, she told him the part she had played in securing Lois Reddle’s release. “I went and found the countess; she was at a friend’s house, and told her about Lois. She was very much upset. I’d never seen her before to speak to, but she was quite decent to me.” “Did she have anybody with her? Do you know Chesney Praye?” Lizzy shook her head. “No, I’ve heard of him from Lois, but I’ve never seen him.” Michael described the man and again she shook her head. “No, he was not there.” “What did the countess do?” “She telephoned to somebody and said she was sending a letter to the police officer in charge. She told me to go home to Charlotte Street and wait in patience until Lois came back.” Michael nodded. “You could rest in patience because she knew that Lois wasn’t going back to Chester Square!” he said grimly. “And if she hadn’t come back to Chester Square and you were there waiting for her, you would have wanted to know where she had been taken.” The car drew up before 307, and Michael got out and pressed the bell. There was no reply. He rang again, and followed this up by knocking. Still there was no answer. Stepping out from under the porch he looked up at the windows, just as a sash was raised and a tousled head thrust forth. It was Lord Moron, and apparently he was sleeping on the floor which was usually given over to the household staff. “Hullo! What’s the trouble, old thing?” “Will you come down?” called Michael, and the head was withdrawn. They waited for a longer time than it would have taken for him to reach the ground floor, before the door opened, and then the explanation for the delay was unnecessary, for with him the countess stood in the hall, wrapped in her cloak, a majestic and imposing figure. Chapter Twenty-three “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded.