"Dear lady," he said, "I will not venture to dispute your decision.
Prince, will you appoint a time to-morrow when this matter shall be
more fully explained to me?"
The Prince's smile was sweetness itself, and his tone very gentle.
But Mr. Sabin, who seldom yielded to any passionate impulse, kept
his teeth set and his hand clenched, lest the blow he longed to
deal should escape him.
"At midday to-morrow I shall be pleased to receive you," he said.
"The Countess, with her usual devotion and good sense, has, I trust,
convinced you that our action is necessary!"
"To-morrow at midday," Mr. Sabin said, "I will be here. I have the
honour to wish you all good-night."
His farewell was comprehensive. He did not even single out Lucille
for a parting glance. But down the broad stairs and across the
hall of Dorset House he passed with weary steps, leaning heavily
upon his stick. It was a heavy blow which had fallen upon him. As
yet he scarcely realised it.
His carriage was delayed for a few moments, and just as he was
entering it a young woman, plainly dressed in black, came hurrying
out and slipped a note into his hand.
"Pardon, monsieur," she exclaimed, with a smile. "I feared that I
was too late."
Mr. Sabin's fingers closed over the note, and he stepped blithely
into the carriage.
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