nfamy!..." He was as convinced as she was of the truth
of her conjectures.

Her dark, tortured eyes made him wince with a double pain. It was only
her son that she was thinking of in those moments, not of him, her
lover--not of what this parting would mean to him and her. "What must I
do?" she kept asking him. "What must I do next? Ought I to have tried to
catch that ten o'clock train? Tell me, Marco ... for God's sake, tell me
what I'd best do...."

"Wait, dearest...." he said. "Give me time to think...."

He sat frowning down at the floor for a few moments. Then he turned to
her. He asked her about the Wychcotes' solicitor.

"Do you think this Mr. Surtees is really your friend?" he said when she
had told him all about her relations with the old lawyer.

"Yes. I'm sure he is," she said positively. "Why?"

"Because, in that case, it seems to me that the best thing would be for
you to wire him to meet you at Folkestone. You can then give him the
true facts and ask his help--before trying to see Lady Wychcote."

"You think she's taken Bobby to England, Marco?-- You feel sure of
that?"

"I don't think there's a doubt of it. She will go straight to Surtees
with her story; of that I feel positive."

Sophy coloured painfully.

"You mean that ... that she would want him to speak to ... the
trustees?" she asked in a low voice.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," he assented. What he really thought was that Lady
Wychcote would want to have the matter taken at once before the Court.
But he could not bring himself to tell her this. Her shamed flush had
hurt him horribly. It was intolerable that this revengeful old woman
should have the power to sully and cloud their relations. Then fear
seized him. What if Sophy were mistaken about the solicitor? What if he
were a tool of Lady Wychcote? The possibilities that this idea disclosed
appalled him. He went as white as Sophy had gone red.

"What is it? What are you thinking of now, Marco?" she urged anxiously,
scared by his expression.

"I was thinking how you could get to England in the shortest time," he
answered. "It's very vital that you should get there as soon as
possible."

"Yes, yes. By that first through train to Paris to-morrow morning."

"No. You needn't go to Paris," said Amaldi. "It will be more direct for
you to go from Venice straight to Boulogne via Laon. You'll save several
hours by taking that route."

"Oh--thank God!" she stammered. Then she caught up his hand t