“That’s about all there is. She said she would meet me here in Wyngate, because that’s the nearest station of the main line to some little place where a nurse or a governess of hers lived.” “Miss Craigie!” “Never heard the name. Anyhow, she wanted to go there after we got married, and—I wish you wouldn’t look like that!” “But I’m so _awfully_ sorry for you!” “It was pretty hard, at first,” he said; “but—well, you see, I’ve thought a bit about it, and after all I’m glad we didn’t get married.” “Oh!” cried Lexy, profoundly shocked. “But that’s—” “Because I—you see, she didn’t—well, I don’t think she really liked me very much.” Lexy was astounded. “Fact!” said he. “What she wanted was romance, and all that sort of thing. She wanted to get away from home, and I was the only chance she had; so there you are!” “That wasn’t very fair to you!” “I don’t blame her,” he said thoughtfully. “We were both—but what’s the sense of talking about all that? The thing is to find her!” Lexy agreed to that promptly. “Now I’ll tell you everything that’s happened,” she said. He listened to her with alert attention. He interrupted her often to ask questions, but they were always questions that she could answer. He wanted all the facts, and what Lexy told him he unquestioningly accepted as fact. When she said she had seen Caroline at the doctor’s house, he believed her. He didn’t suggest that her eyes might have deceived her. He trusted her—not only her good intentions, but her good sense. At last she came to the part of her story about which she was most doubtful—the episode of the emptied bottle. She told it with reluctance. “I don’t know now,” she said. “Perhaps I did wrong. Perhaps that really was wanton mischief. I did so hate that horrible drug that changed her so! When I did it, it seemed right; but now—” “It was right,” said he. “Any one’s better off dead than being drugged. Everything you’ve done was right and splendid. You’re the pluckiest girl I ever heard of—the best and most loyal little pal to poor Caroline! There’s no one like you!” After Mrs. Enderby’s cold and skeptical smile, after Dr. Quelton’s parting sneer, after Captain Grey’s doubts and uncertainties, this speech rather went to Lexy’s head. The world seemed a different place. She glanced at the young man, and he happened at that moment to be looking at her. They both looked away hastily. “This fellow—this Captain Grey,” said Charles. “He seems to me to be rather a chump!” “Oh, he’s not!” protested Lexy. “He’s as nice as can be!” Charles Houseman, who had believed everything that Lexy had said, did not appear convinced of this; and for some inexplicable reason Lexy was not greatly displeased by his lack of belief. XXI