“I think, your grace,” he answered guardedly, “that his lordship has gone to Dijon.”

Lord Rupert stared at him. “What in the fiend’s name does he want in Dijon?” he asked.

“His lordship did not tell me, my lord.” Léonie smote her hands together. “Voyons, I find it insupportable that no one can tell me anything about my son! Speak, you! Was that girl with M. le Marquis?—No, I will not be quiet, Rupert! Was she with him, Fletcher?”

“I beg your grace’s pardon?” Mr. Fletcher was all polite bewilderment.

“Do not beg my pardon again, or I shall become enraged!” Léonie said dangerously. “It is no use to tell me you do not know of any girl, for me I am well aware that M. le Marquis had one with him when he left England. That is not a thing extraordinary. It is true, is it not?”

Mr. Fletcher cast an appealing glance at Lord Rupert, who said testily: “Don’t stare at me, man! We know the girl was with his lordship.”

Mr. Fletcher bowed. “As your lordship says.”

“Well, has she gone to Dijon?”

“I could not say, my lord.”

Léonie eyed him with hostility. “Did she leave this house with M. le Marquis?”

“No, your grace. She was not with his lordship when he set forward on his journey.”

“There you are, my dear!” said Rupert. “Vidal’s got rid of her, and we may as well go home again before Avon gets wind of the affair.”

Léonie told Mr. Fletcher he might go, and when the door had closed behind him, she turned to Rupert with an expression of great anxiety on her face. “Rupert, it becomes more and more serious!”

“Devil a bit!” said his lordship cheerfully. “You can’t get away from it, the girl’s not with Vidal now, so I don’t see we’ve aught to worry over!”

“But Rupert, you do not understand at all! I have a very big fear that Dominique may have cast her off—in a rage, tu sais.”

Lord Rupert disposed his limbs more comfortably in his chair. “I shouldn’t wonder if he had,” he agreed. “It don’t concern us, thank the Lord!”

Léonie got up, and began to move about the room. “If he has done that it is a crime one does not forgive. I must find her.”

Lord Rupert blinked. “If she ain’t with that precious son of yours what do you want with her now?” he inquired.

“Do you think I will permit my son to abandon a girl in Paris?” Léonie said fiercely. “That is noble, yes! I tell you, I have been alone in a great city and there is nothing I do not know of what may happen to a girl who has no protector.”

“But you said this wench was a—”

“I may have said it, but that was because I was angry. I do not know what she is, and I will find her immediately. If Dominique has done her a wrong he shall marry her.”

Lord Rupert clasped his head in his hands. “Hang me, if I know what you’re about, Léonie!” he said. “Here’s me dragged out of England to help you save the Cub from an adventuress, as I thought, and now you say the boy’s to marry her!”

Léonie paid not the slightest heed to this. She went on pacing the room until suddenly an idea came to her, and she stopped short. “Rupert, Juliana is in Paris!”

“What of it?” said his lordship.

“But do you not see, that if Vidal has been staying here of course Juliana has met him?”

“Do you think she might know why the plaguey boy has gone off to Dijon?” inquired Rupert hopefully. “That’s what bothers me. Why Dijon?”

Léonie wrinkled her brow in a puzzled manner. “But why, Rupert, is it Dijon that bothers you? I find the whole of this affair so very strange and without reason that for Dominique to have gone to Dijon is a bagatelle.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Rupert said. “It’s such a devilish queer place to go to. Dijon! What in the fiend’s name would anybody want there? I’ll tell you what it is, Léonie, the boy’s behaving mighty oddly.” He shook his head. “The ninth earl was given to these turns, so they say. It’s a bad business.”

Léonie stared at him. Lord Rupert tapped his forehead significantly. Léonie said in great indignation: “Are you telling me that my son is mad?”

“We’ll hope he ain’t,” Rupert said pessimistically, “but you can’t deny he’s behaving in a manner no one would call sane. Dijon! Why, it’s absurd!”

“If you were not Monseigneur’s brother, Rupert, I should have one big quarrel with you. Mad! Voyons, he is not so mad as you, for you have not any sense at all. Let us go to find Juliana.”

They found, not Juliana, but her hostess, laboriously writing what seemed to be a very long letter. When they were ushered into her boudoir she displayed as much startled surprise as could be expected of anyone so habitually placid. She got up to embrace Léonie, almost falling upon her neck. “Mon Dieu, is it you, Léonie?” she said, with a fat gasp. Then she held out a checking hand. “Not my cousin Justin? Do not say my cousin Justin is here!” she implored.

“Lord, you wouldn’t see me here if he was in Paris!” said Rupert reassuringly.

“If Fanny is here, I cannot face her!” stated madame in palpitating tones. She pointed to her desk, and the scattered sheets of gilt paper. “I am writing to her now. Why have you come? I am glad, yes, but I do not know why you have come.”

“Glad, are you? Well, it don’t sound like it,” commented his lordship. “We’ve come chasing after that plaguey nephew of mine, and a devilish silly errand it is.”

Madame sank down on to a spindle-legged chair, and stared at him with her mouth open. “You know, then?” she faltered.

“Yes, yes, we know everything!” Léonie said. “Now tell me where is Dominique, Elisabeth? Please tell me quickly.”

“But I do not know!” cried madame, spreading out her two plump hands.

“Oh, peste!” said Léonie impatiently.

“Come now, that’s the only thing we do know,” said his lordship. “Vidal’s gone to Dijon.”

Madame looked from him to Léonie in blank bewilderment. “To Dijon? But why? Gracious God, why to Dijon?”

“Just what I said myself, cousin,” replied Rupert triumphantly. “I don’t say the boy hasn’t his reasons, but what the devil he can want in Dijon beats me.”

“Let me see Juliana,” interrupted the Duchess. “I think perhaps she will know where is my son, for he is fond of her, and I feel very certain that she has seen him.”

Madame gave a start. “Juliana?” she echoed hollowly. “Alas, then, you do not know!”

Lord Rupert looked at her with misgiving in his face. “Burn it, I believe you’re going to start a mystery now. What’s to do? Not that I want to know, for I’ve enough on my hands as it is, but you’d best tell us and so be done with it.”

Thus encouraged, madame delivered her terrific pronouncement: “Juliana has eloped with Vidal!”

The effect of this on her hearers was to bereave them, momentarily, of all power of speech. Léonie stood staring in astonished incredulity, and Lord Rupert’s jaw dropped perceptibly. Léonie found her tongue first.

“Bah, what a piece of nonsense!” she said. “I do not at all believe it!”

“Read that!” commanded madame dramatically, and handed her a crumpled sheet of paper.

It contained a brief message in Juliana’s sprawling characters: “My dear Tante, pray do not be in a taking, but I have gone with Vidal. I have No Time to write more, for I am in Desperate Haste. Juliana.”

“But—but it is not possible!” stammered Léonie, growing quite pale.

Lord Rupert snatched the letter unceremoniously out of her hand. “Here, let me read it!” he said. His eyes ran over the sheet. “Damme, if this doesn’t beat all!” he ejaculated. “Oh, there’s not a doubt about it: the boy’s gone stark, staring crazy.” He struck the paper with his hand. “It ain’t decent, Léonie! I’ve naught to say against him abducting this other wench: there’s no harm in that. But when he takes to running off with his cousin, blister it, it’s time he was clapped up!”

Mme. de Charbonne followed this rather imperfectly. “I do not understand. Vidal has eloped with Juliana, that is seen. But why, I ask you? Is it not permitted that they wed? Now they make a scandal, and Fanny will come here, and I am afraid of Fanny.”

Léonie, who had possessed herself of Juliana’s letter again, said stubbornly: “I do not believe it. Dominique does not love Juliana. There is a mistake. I remember, too, that Juliana is going to marry the Nobody.”

Madame de Charbonne said that she still did not understand. Upon the matter being made plain to her, she remarked thoughtfully: “Ah, that is the young Englishman, without doubt. He comes very often to see Juliana.”

“What, is Frederick Comyn in Paris, too, then?” demanded Rupert.

“That is the name,” nodded madame. “A young man tres comme il faut. But Juliana is going to marry Dominique.”

“No!” said Léonie firmly. “He does not want to, and he shall not.”

“But, my dear, he has eloped with her, and he must certainly marry her.”

“Lord, that’s nothing, Elisabeth!” said Rupert. “Juliana ain’t the only girl Vidal’s eloped with. I’ll tell you what it is, the boy’s a Bluebeard.”

“Stop saying that he has eloped with Juliana!” ordered Léonie, her eyes flashing. “I do not know why he has taken her away, but of a certainty he has a reason.”

“Taken her to Dijon, too,” said my lord thoughtfully. “Y’know, the more I think on it the less I believe in this Dijon rubbish. It don’t make sense. I can swallow the rest, but I’ll admit that worries me.”

“It is of all things the most incomprehensible,” agreed madame.

“But you are imbécile, Rupert! To go to Dijon, that is not a great affair! Many people go to Dijon: it is nothing!”