This knowledge, however, only made Towton the more anxious to go also, as the idea that Maunders was having it all his own way and was subjecting Ida to persecution made him restless. He wished to ride forth like a knight of old to rescue his lady-love, who certainly, if her letter was to be believed, seemed to be in great peril. It said a great deal for Towton's disciplinarian instincts that he obeyed Vernon, as one more professionally clever at such cases, rather than his own desires. In the meantime, having satisfied himself with regard to Maunders' whereabouts, the Colonel took up his usual life for, at all events, a week. He relieved his mind by writing to Ida saying that he would come down to The Grange at the termination of that period. Vernon had not thought fit to impart to Towton how he proposed to inveigle Diabella into the open for the very simple reason that he was puzzled himself how to act. Several times he had been to the Bond Street rooms, only to find that they were in the hands of decorators, rapidly transforming the weird Egyptian hall into a cosy English cottage. Mrs. Hiram G. Slowcomb was already advertising that "Granny!" would foretell the future after the fashion of the renowned Mother Shipton, and already had seen several of Diabella's old clients, desirous of novelty. To these she told wonderful things in a strong American accent, which did not suit the thrum cap or the tartan shawl or the general looks of an ancient rustic dame. However, she was succeeding very well, and there was no doubt that when her _mise-en-scene_ was prepared that she would become the fashion for a few months. She professed to know nothing of Diabella, and as she was quite frank in answering questions Vernon saw no reason why he should not believe a story which certainly appeared, on the face of it, to be true. The lawyer of the landlord still refused to say anything about Isabella Hopkins since Vernon declined to state why the knowledge was required. And, of course, as he was suspicious rather than certain he could say absolutely nothing. In this dilemma, and wondering how he was to come face to face with the woman, Vernon decided, on the Sunday when Towton went to seek Maunders, to pay an afternoon call. This errand took him into the luxurious drawing-room of Lady Corsoon. By this time the month of grace allowed by The Spider was nearing its end, and Vernon, having accomplished nothing definite, considered it necessary to reassure the millionaire's wife. Naturally, he expected to find her haggard and hysterical, but was truly surprised to behold a perfectly composed person, comely and content. Her brown eyes sparkled when the footman announced the newcomer, and she swept forward--the word is necessary to exactly describe Lady Corsoon's imposing gait--to welcome him with ill-concealed eagerness.