“Sir Justin,” said the Countess firmly, “please tell my daughter exactly what you have discovered.”

Sir Justin Wallingford sat in the drawing-room at Belgrave Square with one of these ladies on either side of him. He was a tall, gaunt man with a grizzled black beard, a long nose, and such a formidably solemn expression that ambitious parents were in the habit of wishing that their offspring might some day be as wise as Sir Justin Wallingford looked. His fund of information was prodigious, while his reasoning powers were so remarkable that he had never been known to commit the slightest action without furnishing a full and adequate explanation of his conduct. Thus the discrimination shown by the Countess in choosing him to restore a lady's peace of mind will at once be apparent.

“The results of my inquiries,” he pronounced, “have been on the whole of a negative nature. If this mission on which the Baron von Blitzenberg professes to be employed is in fact of an unusually delicate nature, it is just conceivable that the answer I received from Prince Gommell-Kinchen, when I sounded him at the Khalifa's luncheon, may have been intended merely to throw dust in my eyes. At the same time, his highness appeared to speak with the candor of a man who has partaken, not excessively, you understand, but I may say freely, of the pleasures of the table.”

He looked steadily first at one lady and then at the other, to let this point sink in.

“And what did the Prince say?” asked the Baroness, who, in spite of her supreme confidence in her husband, showed a certain eager nervousness inseparable from a judicial inquiry.

“He told me—I merely give you his word, and not my own opinion; you perfectly understand that, Baroness?”

“Oh yes,” she answered hurriedly.

“He informed me that, in fact, the Baron had been obliged to ask for a fortnight's leave of absence to attend to some very pressing and private business in connection with his Silesian estates.”

“I think, Alicia, we may take that as final,” said her mother decisively.

“Indeed I shan't!” cried Alicia warmly. “That was just an excuse, of course. Rudolph's business is so very delicate that—that—well, that you could only expect Prince Gommell-Kinchen to say something of that sort.”

“What do you say to that, Sir Justin?” demanded the Countess.

With the air of a man doing what was only his duty, he replied—

“I say that I think it is improbable. In fact, since you demand to know the truth, I may inform you that the Prince added that leave of absence was readily given, since the Baron's diplomatic duties are merely nominal. To quote his own words, 'Von Blitzenberg is a nice fellow, and it pleases the English ladies to play with him.'”

Even Lady Grillyer was a trifle taken aback at this description of her son-in-law, while Alicia turned scarlet with anger.

“I don't believe he said anything of the sort!” she cried. “You both of you only want to hurt me and insult Rudolph! I won't stand it!”

She was already on her feet to leave them, when her mother stopped her, and Sir Justin hastened to explain.

“No reflection upon the Baron's character was intended, I assure you. The Prince merely meant to imply that he represented the social rather than the business side of the embassy. And both are equally necessary, I assure you—equally essential, Baroness, believe me.”

“In fact,” said the Countess, “the remark comes to this, that Rudolph would never be sent to Russia, whatever else they might expect of him.”

Even through their tears Alicia's eyes brightened with triumph.

“But he HAS gone, mamma! I got a letter from him this morning—from St. Petersburg!”

The satisfaction of her two physicians on hearing this piece of good news took the form of a start which might well have been mistaken for mere astonishment, or even for dismay.

“And you did not tell ME of it!” cried her mother.

“Rudolph did not wish me to. I have only told you now to prove how utterly wrong you both are.”

“Let me see this letter!”

“Indeed, mamma, I won't!”

The two ladies looked at one another with such animosity that Sir Justin felt called upon to interfere.

“Suppose the Baroness were to read us as much as is necessary to convince us that there is no possibility of a mistake,” he suggested.

So profoundly did the Countess respect his advice that she graciously waived her maternal rights so far as actually following the text with her eyes went; while her daughter, after a little demur, was induced to depart this one step further from her husband's injunctions.

“You have no objections to my glancing at the post-mark?” said Sir Justin when this point was settled.

With a toss of her head the Baroness silently handed him the envelope.

“It seems correct,” he observed cautiously.

“But post-marks can be forged, can't they?” inquired the Countess.

“I fear they can,” he admitted, with a sorrowful air.

Scorning to answer this insinuation, the Baroness proceeded to read aloud the following extracts:

“'I travelled with comfort through Europe, and having by many countries passed, such as Germany and others, I arrived, my dear Alicia, in Russia.'”

“Is that all he says about his journey?” interrupted Lady Grillyer.

“It is certainly a curiously insufficient description of a particularly interesting route,” commented Sir Justin.

“It almost seems as if he didn't know what other countries lie between England and Russia,” added the Countess.

“It only means that he knows geography doesn't interest me!” replied Alicia. “And he does say more about his journey—'Alone by myself, in a carriage very quietly I travelled.' And again—'To be observed not wishing, and strict orders being given to me, with no man I spoke all the way.' There!”

“That certainly makes it more difficult to check his statements,” Sir Justin admitted.

“Ah, he evidently thought of that!” said the Countess. “If he had said there was anyone with him, we could have asked him afterwards who it was. What a pity! Read on, my child—we are vastly interested.”

Thus encouraged, the Baroness continued

“'In Russia the crops are good, and from my window with pleasure I observe them. Petersburg is a nice town, and I have a pleasant apartment in it!'”

“What!” exclaimed the Countess. “He is looking at the crops from his window in St. Petersburg!”

Sir Justin grimly pursed his lips, but his silence was more ominous than speech. In fact, the Baron's unfortunate effort at realism by the introduction of his window struck the first blow at his wife's implicit trust in him. She was evidently a little disconcerted, though she stoutly declared—

“He is evidently living in the suburbs, mamma.”

“Will you be so kind as to read on a little farther?” interposed Sir Justin in a grave voice.

“'The following reflections have I made. Russia is very large and cold, where people in furs are to be seen, and sledges. Bombs are thrown sometimes, and the marine is not good when it does drink too much.' Now, mamma, he must have seen these things or he wouldn't put them in his letter.”

The Baroness broke of somewhat hurriedly to make this comment, almost indeed as though she felt it to be necessary. As for her two comforters, they looked at one another with so much sorrow that their eyes gleamed and their lips appeared to smile.

“The Baron did not write that letter in Russia,” said Sir Justin decisively. “Furs are not worn in summer, nor do the inhabitants travel in sledges at this time of the year.”

“But—but he doesn't say he actually saw them,” pleaded the Baroness.

“Then that remark, just like the rest of his reflections, makes utter nonsense,” rejoined her mother.

“Is that all?” inquired Sir Justin.

“Almost all—all that is important,” faltered the Baroness.

“Let us hear the rest,” said her mother inexorably.

“There is only a postscript, and that merely says—'The flask that you filled I thank you for; it was so large that it was sufficient for——' I can't read the last word.”

“Let me see it, Alicia.”

A few minutes ago Alicia would have torn the precious letter up rather than let another eye fall upon it. That her devotion was a little disturbed was proved by her allowing her two advisers to study even a single sentence. Keeping her hand over the rest, she showed it to them. They bent their brows, and then simultaneously exclaimed—

“'Us both!'”

“Oh, it can't be!” cried the poor Baroness.

“It is absolutely certain,” said her mother in a terrible voice—“'It was so large that it was sufficient for us both!'”

“There is no doubt about it,” corroborated Sir Justin sternly. “The unfortunate young man has inadvertently confessed his deception.”

“It cannot be!” murmured the Baroness. “He said at the beginning that he travelled quite alone.”

“That is precisely what condemns him,” said her mother.

“Precisely,” reiterated Sir Justin.

The Baroness audibly sobbed, while the two patchers of her peace of mind gazed at her commiserately.

“What am I to do?” she asked at length. “I can't believe he really—— But how am I to find out?”

“I shall make further investigations,” promptly replied Sir Justin.

“And I also,” added the Countess.

“Meanwhile,” said Sir Justin, “we shall be exceedingly interested to learn what further particulars of his wanderings the Baron supplies you with.”

“Yes,” observed the Countess, “he can fortunately be trusted to betray himself. You will inform me, Alicia, as soon as you hear from him again.”

Her daughter made no reply.

Sir Justin rose and bade them a grave farewell.

“In my daughter's name I thank you cordially,” said the Countess, as she pressed his hand.

“Anything I have done has been a pleasure to me,” he assured them with a sincerity there was no mistaking.