here, is he? Wish you joy of
him, my lady! Very well, I go on. Good night, madam!' The viscountess
knew that opposition would stiffen him. 'Stop!' she cried.

But he was already in the hall, ordering fresh saddle-horses for himself
and his man. My lady heard the order, and stood listening. Mr. Thomasson
heard it, and stood quaking. At any moment the door of the room in which
the girl was supping might open--it was adjacent to the hall--and she
come out, and the two would meet. Nor did the suspense last a moment or
two only. Fresh horses could not be ready in a minute, even in those
times, when day and night post-horses stood harnessed in the stalls.
Even Mr. Dunborough could not be served in a moment. So he roared for a
pint of claret and a crust, sent one servant flying this way, and
another that, hectored up and down the entrance, to the admiration of
the peeping chambermaids; and for a while added much to the bustle. Once
in those minutes the fateful door did open, but it emitted only a
waiter. And in the end, Mr. Dunborough's horses being announced, he
strode out, his spurs ringing on the steps, and the viscountess heard
him clatter away into the night, and drew a deep breath of relief. For a
day or two, at any rate, she was saved. For the time, the machinations
of the creature below stairs were baffled.

CHAPTER XI

DR. ADDINGTON

It did not occur to Lady Dunborough to ask herself seriously how a girl
in the Mastersons' position came to be in such quarters as the Castle
Inn, and to have a middle-aged and apparently respectable attorney for a
travelling companion. Or, if her ladyship did ask herself those
questions, she was content with the solution, which the tutor out of his
knowledge of human nature had suggested; namely, that the girl, wily as
she was beautiful, knew that a retreat in good order, flanked after the
fashion of her betters by duenna and man of business, doubled her
virtue; and by so much improved her value, and her chance of catching
Mr. Dunborough and a coronet.

There was one in the house, however, who did set himself these riddles,
and was at a loss for an answer. Sir George Soane, supping with Dr.
Addington, the earl's physician, found his attention wander from the
conversation, and more than once came near to stating the problem which
troubled him. The cosy room, in which the two sat, lay at the bottom of
a snug passage leading off the principal corridor of the west wing; and
was as