fer me the bank I couldn't tell you."

"Was it a man?"

Mr. Dacre's drawl became still more pronounced.

"I rather fancy that it was."

Mr. Dacre expected something. The duke was so excited. But he by no means
expected what actually came.

"Ivor, she's been kidnaped!"

Mr. Dacre did what he had never been known to do before within the memory
of man--he dropped his eyeglass.

"Datchet!"

"She has! Some scoundrel has decoyed her away, and trapped her. He's
already sent me a lock of her hair, and he tells me that if I don't let
him have five hundred pounds in gold by half-past five he'll let me have
her little finger."

Mr. Dacre did not know what to make of his grace at all. He was a sober
man--it _couldn't_ be that! Mr. Dacre felt really concerned.

"I'll call a cab, old man, and you'd better let me see you home."

Mr. Dacre half raised his stick to hail a passing hansom. The duke caught
him by the arm.

"You ass! What do you mean? I am telling you the simple truth. My wife's
been kidnaped."

Mr. Dacre's countenance was a thing to be seen--and remembered.

"Oh! I hadn't heard that there was much of that sort of thing about just
now. They talk of poodles being kidnaped, but as for duchesses--You'd
really better let me call that cab."

"Ivor, do you want me to kick you? Don't you see that to me it's a
question of life and death? I've been in there to get the money." His
grace motioned toward the bank. "I'm going to take it to the scoundrel who
has my darling at his mercy. Let me but have her hand in mine again, and
he shall continue to pay for every sovereign with tears of blood until he
dies."

"Look here, Datchet, I don't know if you're having a joke with me, or if
you're not well--"

The duke stepped impatiently into the roadway.

"Ivor, you're a fool! Can't you tell jest from earnest, health from
disease? I'm off! Are you coming with me? It would be as well that I
should have a witness."

"Where are you off to?"

"To the other end of the Arcade."

"Who is the gentleman you expect to have the pleasure of meeting there?"

"How should I know?" The duke took a letter from his pocket--it was the
letter which had just arrived. "The fellow is to wear a white top hat, and
a gardenia in his buttonhole."

"What is it you have there?"

"It's the letter which brought the news--look for yourself and see; but,
for God's sake, make haste!" His grace glanced at his watch. "It's already
twenty after fiv