"How very annoying," said Lady Saxondale, a faint frown on her brow. "She is usually so punctual."
"Perhaps she--er--didn't get your telegram," ventured Dickey. "What sort of a looking--I mean, is she old or young?"
"Neither; she is just my age," smiled Lady Saxondale. Dickey dumbly permitted the rare chance for a compliment to slip by. "Jane, won't you and Mr. Savage undertake a search for her? I will give William directions regarding the luggage." She turned to the man and the maids, and Mr. Savage and Lady Disdain were left to work out their salvation as best they could.
"I can't think of troubling you, Mr. Savage. It won't be necessary for you to dodge around in this crowd to--"
"No trouble, I assure you, Lady Jane. Be glad to do it, in fact. Where shall we go first?" demanded he, considerably flurried.
"You go that way and I'll go this. We'll find her more easily," said she, relentlessly, indicating the directions.
"How unfortunate! Would you know her if I were to describe her to you? Well, she's tall and very fair. She's also beautiful. She's quite stunning. I'm sure you'll know her." She was starting away when he confronted her desperately.
"You'll have to go with me. I'll be arrested for addressing the wrong lady if I go alone, and you'll suffer the mortification of seeing them drag me off to jail."
"The what? Why do you say mortification, Mr. Savage? I am quite sure--"
"O, come now, Jane--aw--Lady Jane--what do you mean by that? What's all the row about? What has happened?" he cried.
"Something's wrong, or you'd seem happier to see me, that's all," he said, helplessly. "Lord, all my troubles come at once. Phil is half dead, perhaps all dead, by this time--and here you come along, adding misery instead of--"
"Phil--Mr. Quentin--what did you say, Dickey?" she cried, her haughty reserve fading like a flash.
"Don't you know?" he cried. "Almost killed last night by--by robbers. Slugged him nearly to a finish. Horrible gashes--eight stitches"--he was blurting out excitedly, but she clasped his arm convulsively and fairly dragged him to where Lady Saxondale stood.
"Oh, Dickey! They didn't kill--he won't die, will he? Why didn't you tell us before? Why didn't you telegraph?" she cried, and there was no wrath in the thumping, terrified little heart. Lady Saxondale turned quickly upon hearing the excited words of the girl who but a moment before had been the personification of reserve.