"Will you tell me where Lucille is now?" he asked.
"For your own sake and hers, no," she answered. "You also are watched. Besides, it is too late. She was with Brott half an hour after the Duke turned us out of Dorset House. Don't you understand, Victor--won't you? It is too late."
He sat down heavily in his easy-chair. His whole appearance was one of absolute dejection.
"So I am to be left alone in my old age," he murmured. "You have your revenge now at last. You have come to take it."
She sank on her knees by the side of his chair, and her arms fell upon his shoulders.
"How can you think so cruelly of me, Victor," she murmured. "You were always a little mistaken in Lucille. She loved you, it is true, but all her life she has been fond of change and excitement. She came to Europe willingly--long before this Brott would have been her slave save for your reappearance. Can't you forget her--for a little while?"
Mr. Sabin sat quite still. Her hair brushed his cheeks, her arms were about his neck, her whole attitude was an invitation for his embrace. But he sat like a figure of stone, neither repulsing nor encouraging her.
"You need not be alone unless you like," she whispered.
"I am an old man," he said slowly, "and this is a hard blow for me to bear. I must be sure, absolutely sure that she has gone."
"By this time to-morrow," she murmured, "all the world will know it."
"Come to me then," he said. "I shall need consolation."
Her eyes were bright with triumph. She leaned over him and kissed him on the lips. Then she sprang lightly to her feet.
"Wait here for me," she said, "and I will come to you. You shall know, Victor, that Lucille is not the only woman in the world who has cared for you."
There was a tap at the door. Lady Carey was busy adjusting her hat. Passmore entered, and stood hesitating upon the threshold. Mr. Sabin had risen to his feet. He took one of her hands and raised it to his lips. She gave him a swift, wonderful look and passed out.
Mr. Sabin's manner changed as though by magic. He was at once alert and vigorous.
"My dear Passmore," he said, "come to the table. We shall want those Continental time-tables and the London A.B.C. You will have to take a journey to-night."