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“Hand over mine, old chap.”

“I–I haven’t got ’em.”

“What?”

“I–I’m awfully sorry, I.—-I forgot ’em.”

“Oh, how tiresome of you, Mr. Laing!”

“Send ’em round first thing to-morrow, Laing.”

“But–but I don’t know where I put ’em. I know I laid ’em down. Then I took ’em up. Then I put ’em–where the deuce did I put ’em? Here’s a go, Miss Bellairs! I say, I am an ass!”

No contradiction assailed him. His victims glared reproachfully at him.

“I must have left them at Cannes. I’ll wire first thing in the morning, Miss Bellairs; I’ll get up as soon as ever the office is open. I say, do forgive me.”

“Well, Mr. Laing, I’ll try, but—-“

“Laing! Here! My wife wants you,” shouted Sir Roger, and the criminal, happy to escape, ran away, leaving Dora and Charlie alone.

“They must have been from them,” murmured Dora.

“No doubt; and that fool Laing—-“

“What has he done with them?”

“Lit his pipe with them, I expect.”

“Oh, what shall we do?”

“I don’t know.”

“What–what do you think they said, Mr. Ellerton?”

“How can I tell? Perhaps that the marriage was off!”

“Oh!” escaped from Dora.

“Perhaps that it was going on.”

“It’s worse than ever. They may have asked for answers.”

“Probably.”

“And they won’t have written here!”

“Sure not to have.”

“And–and I shan’t know what to do. I–I believe it was to say he had broken off the marriage.”

“Is the wish father to the thought?”

The lights of the station flickered, but Charlie saw, or thought he saw, a hasty unpremeditated gesture of protest.

“Dolly!” he whispered.

“Hush, hush! How can you now–before we know?”

“The cab’s waiting,” called Deane. “Come along.”

They got in in silence. The General and the Deanes went first, and the three young people followed in a second vehicle. It was but just twelve, and the boulevards were gay and full of people.

Suddenly, as they were near the Opera, they saw the tall figure of an unmistakable Englishman walking away from them down the Avenue de l’Opera. Dora clutched Charlie’s arm with a convulsive grip.

“Hullo, what’s the–” he began, but a second pinch enforced silence.

“See that chap?” asked Laing, pointing to the figure. “He’s at my hotel.”

“Is he?” said Dora in a faint voice.

“Yes, I’ve got a good deal of amusement out of him. He oughtn’t to be out so late though, and by himself, too!”

“Who is it?” asked Charlie.

“I don’t know his name.”

“And why oughtn’t he to be out?”

“Because he’s on his honeymoon,”

“What?” cried Dora.

“Just married,” explained Laing. “Wife’s a tallish girl, fair, rather good-looking; looks standoffish though.”

“You–you’re sure they’re married, Mr. Laing?” gasped Dora, and Charlie, in whom her manner had awakened a suspicion of the truth, also waited eagerly for the reply.

“What, Miss Bellairs?” asked Laing in surprise.

“Oh, I mean–I mean you haven’t made a mistake?”

“Well, they’re together all day, and nobody’s with them except a lady’s-maid. I should think that’s good enough.”

With a sigh Dora sank back against the cushions. They were at the hotel now; the others had already entered, and, bidding Laing a hearty good-night, Dora ran in, followed closely by Charlie. He did not overtake her before she found her father.

“Well, Dolly,” said the General, “there’s no letter.”

“Oh,” cried Dolly, “I’ll stay as long as ever you like, papa.”

“That’s right,” said Deane. “And you, Charlie?”

Charlie took his cue.

“A month if you like.”

“Capital! Now for a wash–come along, Maud–and then supper!”

Dora lingered behind the others, and Charlie with her. Directly they were alone, he asked:

“What does it all mean?”

She sat down, still panting with agitation.

“Why–why, that man we saw–the man Mr. Laing says is on his honeymoon, is–is—-“

“Yes, yes?”

“Mr. Ashforth!”

“Dolly! And his wife! By Jove! It’s an exact description of Mary Travers!”

“The telegrams were to say the marriage was to be at once.”

“Yes, and–they’re married!”

“Yes!”

A short pause marked the astounding conclusion. Then Charlie came up very close and whispered:

“Are you broken-hearted, Dolly?”

She turned her face away with a blush.

“Are you, Dolly?”

“I’m very much ashamed of myself,” she murmured. “Oh, Mr. Ellerton, not just yet!” and in deference to her entreaty Charlie had the grace to postpone what he was about to do.