ven him a passing nod. It had been understood the
night before in Heribert Street that they would both be crossing on
the morrow.

On the following day--the day of Julie's journey--Delafield, who was
anxiously awaiting the return of his two companions from their interview
with the great physician they were consulting, was strolling up the Rue
de la Paix, just before luncheon, when, outside the Hotel Mirabeau, he
ran into a man whom he immediately perceived to be Warkworth.

Politeness involved the exchange of a few sentences, although a secret
antagonism between the two men had revealed itself from the first day of
their meeting in Lady Henry's drawing-room. Each word of their short
conversation rang clearly through Delafield's memory.

"You are at the 'Rhin'?" said Warkworth.

"Yes, for a couple more days. Shall we meet at the Embassy to-morrow?"

"No. I dined there last night. My business here is done. I start for
Rome to-night."

"Lucky man. They have put on a new fast train, haven't they?"

"Yes. You leave the Gare de Lyon at 7.15, and you are at Rome the second
morning, in good time."

"Magnificent! Why don't we all rush south? Well, good-bye again, and
good luck."

They touched hands perfunctorily and parted.

This happened about mid-day. While Delafield and his cousins were
lunching, a telegram from the Duchess of Crowborough was handed to
Jacob. He had wired to her early in the morning to ask for the address
in Paris of an old friend of his, who was also a cousin of hers. The
telegram contained:

"Thirty-six Avenue Friedland. Lord Lackington heart-attack
this morning. Dying. Has asked urgently for Julie. Blanche
Moffatt detained Florence by daughter's illness. All
circumstances most sad. Woman Heribert Street gave me Bruges
address. Have wired Julie there."

The message set vibrating in Delafield's mind the tender memory which
already existed there of his last talk with Julie, of her strange
dependence and gentleness, her haunting and pleading personality. He
hoped with all his heart she might reach the old man in time, that his
two sons, Uredale and William, would treat her kindly, and that it would
be found when the end came that he had made due provision for her as his
granddaughter.

But he had small leisure to give to thoughts of this kind. The
physician's report in the morning had not been encouraging, and his two
travelling companions demanded all the sympathy and