f honour held her back from telling, since it was in her service
and her sister's that I had disclosed myself--"

"A message for His Lordship," said Pelletan from the door.

Cranford took it.

"You will pardon me," he said. "It is marked urgent," and he tore it
open. His face brightened as he read it. "Monsieur le Prince," he said,
warmly, turning to Markeld, "I congratulate you from the bottom of my
heart!" and he handed him the message.

Markeld took the paper and glanced at it, then, with beaming eyes, held
out his hand. And the duchess, looking on, grew suddenly young again!

"What is it?" she demanded. "Don't you see we are all waiting?"

"'Prince George, of Schloshold, has just died of an apoplexy,'" the
Prince read. "'You will inform the Prince of Markeld that we will
support his house to the limit of our power. Vernon,'"

"God be praised!" cried the duchess. "God be praised," and she caught at
the door to keep herself from falling. "He was a bad man," she added in
another tone. "Therefore he needs our prayers!"

"I give Monsieur le Prince the congratulations of France," said an oily
voice, and Monsieur Tellier bowed low.

"Oh!" cried Nell, and shrank away from him.

"Is that the scoundrel?" demanded Cranford. And he started across the
room.

"One moment," interposed the Prince, "don't soil your hands on him.
Glueck!" he called, raising his voice.

And Glueck appeared on the instant.

His master indicated Tellier with the motion of a finger.

It was wonderful to see how Glueck's face brightened--almost into a
smile--as he laid his hand on Tellier's shoulder.

"Canaille!" hissed the latter, and shook the hand away. "Do not touch
me--do not defile me with those dirty fingers. Oh, I will go! I have my
task accomplished! And you are fools, imbeciles--all--all--from that fat
Dutchman, who thinks his wife still living--"

But Glueck was again upon him, this time not to be shaken off, and an
instant later he and his victim disappeared together into the shadows of
the hall.

"Just the same," shrieked Tellier's voice hoarsely from the distance,
"it was I who was right! In every detail! A veritable triumph! A success
of--"

The voice sank into a gurgle and was still.

Pelletan, his face livid, clutching blindly at the wall for support,
stumbled forth into the hall, along the corridor, down the stair, until
at last he found Tellier, his face purple, rearranging his cravat before
a mirror in the hotel