Claudia certainly looked charming. She was dressed in black, and had a large bunch of Neapolitan violets in her low corsage. They were his favourite flowers, and he knew that she wore them in honour of his visit. "I wrote to you twice from Paris, and received no reply, Dudley," she said, leaning toward him when the man had gone. "Why didn't you answer?" "Forgive me, Claudia," he answered, placing his hand upon hers and looking into her handsome face. "I have been so very busy of late--and I expected you back in London every day." "You have only written to me once since I left Wroxeter," she said, pouting. "It is really too bad of you." "I can only plead heavy work and the grave responsibilities of office," he answered. "I've been literally driven to death. You've no doubt seen the papers." "Yes, I have seen them," she answered. "And my candid opinion is, Dudley, that the Government has not come out particularly well in regard to the question of Crete. I'm quite with you as to your declaration in the House last night, that we are not nearly strong enough in the Mediterranean." Jackson entered again, and, as their conversation was of necessity prevented from taking on an intimate tone, they kept to a discussion of matters upon which Dudley had been speaking in the House during the past week. She had always been his candid critic, and often pointed out to him his slips and shortcomings, just as she had criticised him in their youthful days and stirred within him the ambition to enter public life. If she knew of the secret compact that he had made with Muriel Mortimer what would she say? He dreaded to contemplate the exposure of the truth. "Have you heard anything of the Meldrums?" he inquired, as the thought flashed into his mind that from her very probably he might be able to learn their whereabouts. "Oh! they're abroad," she replied. "They left us very suddenly at the castle, for what reason I've not yet been able to make out. Do you know, I've a horrible suspicion that Lady Meldrum was offended, or something, but what it was I really have no idea. She was scarcely civil when we parted." "That's very strange," he said, pricking up his ears and looking at her in astonishment. "Who was the culprit? One of the guests, I suppose." "I suppose so," his hostess answered. "But at any rate, whatever the cause, she was gravely offended. The excuse to leave was a palpably false one, for there chanced to be no letters for her that morning." "Where are they now?" "They first went up to Dumfries, and then came to town and left for Brussels. I heard from Muriel a week ago from Florence." "From Muriel!" he exclaimed. "Then she is with them?" "Yes. Her letter says that they were contemplating taking a villa there for the winter, but were hesitating on account of Lady Meldrum's health. It appears that her London doctor did not recommend Florence on account of the cold winds along the Arno."