that all he wanted was an hour or two's
sleep.

"I go back to Paris to-morrow," he said, as he prepared to take his
leave. "Will you be here to-night if I look in?"

"Alack! we go to Scotland to-night! It was just a piece of luck that you
found me this morning. Freddie is fuming to get away."

Delafield paused a moment. Then he abruptly shook hands and went.

"He wants news of what happens at St. James's Square," thought the
Duchess, suddenly, and she ran after him to the top of the stairs.
"Jacob! If you don't mind a horrid mess to-night, Freddie and I shall be
dining alone--of course we must have something to eat. Somewhere about
eight. Do look in. There'll be a cutlet--on a trunk--anyway."

Delafield laughed, hesitated, and finally accepted.

The Duchess went back to the drawing-room, not a little puzzled and
excited.

"It's very, _very_ odd," she said to herself. "And what _is_ the matter
with Jacob?"

* * * * *

Half an hour later she drove to the splendid house in St. James's Square
where Lord Lackington lay dying.

She asked for Lord Uredale, the eldest son, and waited in the library
till he came.

He was a tall, squarely built man, with fair hair already gray, and
somewhat absent and impassive manners.

At sight of him the Duchess's eyes filled with tears. She hurried to
him, her soft nature dissolved in sympathy.

"How is your father?"

"A trifle easier, though the doctors say there is no real improvement.
But he is quite conscious--knows us all. I have just been reading him
the debate."

"You told me yesterday he had asked for Miss Le Breton," said the
Duchess, raising herself on tiptoe as though to bring her low tones
closer to his ear. "She's here--in town, I mean. She came back from
Paris last night."

Lord Uredale showed no emotion of any kind. Emotion was not in his line.

"Then my father would like to see her," he said, in a dry, ordinary
voice, which jarred upon the sentimental Duchess.

"When shall I bring her?"

"He is now comfortable and resting. If you are free--"

The Duchess replied that she would go to Heribert Street at once. As
Lord Uredale took her to her carriage a young man ran down the steps
hastily, raised his hat, and disappeared.

Lord Uredale explained that he was the husband of the famous young
beauty, Mrs. Delaray, whose portrait Lord Lackington had been engaged
upon at the time of his seizure. Having been all his life a skil