“Write to me by every mail.  Keep me informed of events—­”

“You will kill yourself, Duke! flying off without your dinner, and looking fitter for going to bed than on a journey!” panted the dowager.

“Now then, good-by in earnest, dear Lady Belgrade, and God bless you,” concluded the duke, raising her hand to his lips and bowing.

And before the dowager could say another word he was gone.

“Well, if he lives to be as old as I am, he will take things easier.  Though, if he goes on at this rate, he won’t live to be old,” mused the old lady, as she slowly waddled into the dining-room, and took her seat at the table to enjoy her solitary green turtle soup.

CHAPTER XXII.

AT LONE.

The Duke of Hereward went out to the close cab that was waiting for him before the door.

He found his valet standing by it, with a pair of railroad rugs over his arm.

He directed the man to mount to a seat beside the cabman, and gave the latter orders where to drive.

Then he entered the cab and closed all the doors and windows, that he might not be seen by any chance acquaintance.

He was supposed by all the world of London to be away on his wedding tour, and he was willing to let them continue to believe so, until they should be enlightened by a report of the great trial, when they would learn the fact and the explanation at once, and thus be prevented from making undesirable conjectures and speculations concerning his presence at such a time in England.

He leaned back on his seat, and the cabman, having received directions from the valet, drove rapidly off toward the Great Northern Railway Station at Kings Cross.

An hour’s fast drive brought them to their destination.

The duke dispatched his valet to the ticket office to engage a coupe on the express train, so that he might be entirely private.

And he remained in the cab with closed doors and windows until the servant had secured the coupe, and conveyed all the light luggage into it.

Then he left the cab, and passed at once into the coupe, leaving his servant to pay and discharge the cab, and to follow him on the train.

James Kerr, after performing these duties, went to the door of his master’s little compartment to ask if he had any further orders, before going to take his place in the second-class carriages.

“No, Kerr, but come in here with me.  I want you at hand during the journey,” replied the duke, who, much as he confided in the young man’s devotion and loyalty, could not quite trust his discretion, and therefore desired to keep him from talking.

The valet bowed and entered the coupe, taking the seat that his master pointed out.

The train moved slowly out of the station, but gaining speed as it left the town, soon began to fly swiftly on its northern course.