Margaret, it would not have been an agreeable thing to
be so very poor again.

"I never met Lord Fitzdoggin," said Margaret, "and I do not understand
in the least. Why should he, of all people, inform me of this, if it is
really true?"

"The Duke must have written to him," said Miss Skeat, still beaming, and
reading the message over again.

Margaret paused a moment in thought, then lighting the gas herself, she
wrote a note and despatched Vladimir in hot haste.

"I have asked Mr. Bellingham to dine," she said, in answer to Miss
Skeat's inquiring look. "He will go to the party with me afterwards, if
he is free."

It chanced that Mr. Bellingham was in his rooms when Margaret's note
came, and he immediately threw over an engagement he had previously
made, and sent word he would be at the Countess's disposal. Punctual to
the minute he appeared. Margaret showed him the telegram.

"What does this mean, Mr. Bellingham?" she asked, smiling, but
scrutinising his face closely.

"My dear Countess," cried the old gentleman, delighted beyond measure at
the result of his policy, and corruscating with smiles and twinkles,
"my dear Countess, allow me to congratulate you."

"But who is the 'personal friend' mentioned? Is it the Duke? He is in
the far West at this moment."

"No," answered Mr. Bellingham, "it is not the Duke. I am inclined to
think it is a manifestation of some great cosmic force, working silently
for your welfare. The lovely spirits," continued the old gentleman,
looking up from under his brows, and gesticulating as though he would
call down the mystic presence he invoked--"the lovely spirits that guard
you would be loth to allow anything so fair to suffer annoyance from the
rude world. You are well taken care of, Countess, believe me."

Margaret smiled at Uncle Horace's way of getting out of the difficulty,
for she suspected him of knowing more than he would acknowledge. But all
she could extract from him was that he knew Lord Fitzdoggin slightly,
and that he believed the telegram to be perfectly genuine. He had played
his part in the matter, and rubbed his hands as though washing them of
any further responsibility. Indeed he had nothing to tell, save that he
had advised Claudius to get an introduction from the Duke. He well knew
that the letters he had given Claudius had been the real means of his
success; but as Margaret only asked about the telegram, he was perfectly
safe in denying any knowledge of it.