e and rung the bell for about the
twentieth time that afternoon.

And Margaret Watson was again called to the drawing-room and questioned.

"Indeed, if you please, my lady, I am very sorry. I would give anything
in the world if I could only remember exactly what the old person's name
was, and where she lived. But indeed, my lady, what with being very
much engaged with waiting on her grace, and packing up the last little
things for the journey, and getting together the dressing-bags and such
like, and having of my mind on them and not on the woman, and no ways
expecting anything like this to happen, I wasn't that interested in the
visitor to tax my memory with her affairs. But I know her name was a
common one, like Smith or Jones, and I _think_ it was Jones. And I
know she said she lived on Westminster Road or Blackfriars Road, or some
other road leading over a bridge, which I remember because it made me
think about the river. But I couldn't tell which," said the girl in
answer to the cross-questioning.

"And is that all you can tell us?" inquired Lady Belgrade.

"I beg pardon, my lady, but that is all I can remember," meekly replied
the girl.

"Then you might as well remember nothing. You can go!" said Lady
Belgrade, in deep displeasure.

The girl retired, a little crestfallen.

"Is there any other fool you would like to have called up and
cross-examined, Duke?" sarcastically inquired the lady.

The duke made a gesture of negation. And the lady relapsed into painful
silence.

And now another weary, weary hour crept by without bringing news of the
lost one.

The watchers seemed to "possess their souls" in patience, if not "in
peace." There was really nothing to be done but to wait. There was no
place where inquiries could be made. At this time of the year nearly all
the fashionable world of London was out of town. Nor at any time had
Salome any intimate acquaintances to whom she would have gone. Nor would
it have been expedient just yet to apply to the detective police for help
to search abroad for one who might of herself return home at any moment.

The Duke of Hereward and Lady Belgrade could only wait it in terrible
anxiety, though with outward calmness, for what the night might bring
forth.

But in what a monotonous and insensible manner all household routine
continues, "in well regulated families," through the most revolutionary
sort of domestic troubles.

The first dinner bell had rung; but neither