master.

The duke threw off the travelling coat that he had assumed for his
journey and had worn up to this moment; and he took the wadded silk
dressing gown, handed him by his valet, and having put it on, he dropped
into an easy resting-chair, and ordered Kerr to lower the gas and then
leave the room for the night.

The young Duke of Hereward did not retire to bed that night. As soon as
he found himself alone in the half-darkened rooms, he arose from his
chair and began to walk restlessly up and down the floor, relieving the
pent-up anguish of his bosom by such deep groans as had required all his
self-control to suppress while he was in the presence of others.

Thus walking and groaning in great agony of mind, he passed the few
remaining dark hours of the morning.

At daylight he sank exhausted into his easy-chair. But even then he
neither "slumbered nor slept," but passed the time in waiting and longing
for the rising sun, that he might go out and renew his search for his
lost bride.

The sun had scarcely risen when he rang for his valet.

The young man appeared promptly.

The duke made a hasty toilet, and then called his servant to attend him
down stairs.

None of the household were yet astir.

But, by the direction of the duke, Kerr unlocked, unbolted and unbarred
the street door to let his master out.

"Close and secure the house after me, James, for it will be hours yet
before the household will be up," said the duke, as he passed out.

It was a clear October day for London. The sun was not more than twenty
minutes high, and it shone redly and dully through a morning fog. The
streets were still deserted, except by milkmen, bakers, costermongers,
and other "early birds."

He walked rapidly to the Church Court police station.

Detective Setter was not there. But the Duke left word for him to call at
Elmthorpe as soon as he should return.

He left the police station and went on toward Elmthrope. But he did not
enter the house. He could not rest. He walked up and down the sidewalk in
front of the iron railings until he thought Lady Belgrade might have
risen.

Then he went up the steps and rang the bell.

The hall porter opened the door and admitted him.

"Has Lady Belgrade come down yet?" was his first question.

"My lady has, your grace. My lady is waiting breakfast for your grace,"
respectfully answered the footman.

He longed to ask if any news had been heard of the missing one, but he
for