The Lost Lady of Lone eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 588 pages of information about The Lost Lady of Lone.

The duke slipped in at the private entrance and gained his own apartment, where he found his valet engaged in packing his valise.

He sent the man out to pay the tavern bill.

In a few minutes Kerr returned, accompanied by the landlord, who brought the receipt, and inquired if his grace would have a carriage.

“No,” the duke said; as the distance was short, he preferred to walk to the station.

In a few moments he left the inn, followed by his valet carrying his valise.

They caught the train in good time, having just secured their tickets when the warning shriek of the engine was heard, and it thundered up to the station and stopped.

The duke, followed by his servant, entered the coupe he had secured for the journey.

Three nights of sleeplessness, anxiety and fatigue had prostrated the vital forces of the young nobleman, and so, no sooner had the train started, than he sat himself comfortably back among his cushions, and, being now in a great measure relieved from suspense, he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.  This sleep continued almost unbroken through the night, and was only slightly disturbed by the bustle of arrival when the train reached a large city on its route.  He awoke when it arrived at Peterborough; but fell asleep again, and slept through the long twilight of that first day of November.



It was eight o’clock in the morning of a dark and cloudy day, when the duke was finally aroused by the noise and confusion attending the arrival of the Great Northern Express train at King’s Cross Station, London.

He shook himself wide awake, adjusted his wrap, and sprang out of his coupe, while yet his servant was but just bestirring himself.

The first man he met in the station was Detective Setter.

How is she?” eagerly inquired the traveller, hastening to meet the officer.

“She is perfectly well, and expresses herself as not only willing, but anxious to see your grace,” replied the detective.

Not only willing! that is a strange phrase, too!  But I presume I shall understand it all when I see her. Where is she?” demanded the duke.

“At the house on Westminster Road.  The address was Westminster, and not Blackfriars Road.”

“At the house on Westminster Road!  Did you find her there?”

“I did your grace.”

“But why, in the name of propriety, and good sense, does she not return home?”

“Your grace, she is at home,” said the perplexed detective.

“Just now you told me that she was at the house on Westminster Road!” said the bewildered duke.

“Beg pardon, your grace, but the house on Westminster Road is her home.  She has no other that I know of.”

The duke stared at the detective a moment, and then hastily demanded: 

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The Lost Lady of Lone from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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