The Baroness burst into tears.

“My child, my child!” said her mother compassionately.  “The world is no Garden of Eden, however much we may all try to make it so.”

“You—­you don’t se—­seem to be trying now, mamma.”

“May Heaven forgive you, my darling,” pronounced the Countess piously.

CHAPTER XIV

“Sir Justin,” said the Countess firmly, “please tell my daughter exactly what you have discovered.”

Sir Justin Wallingford sat in the drawing-room at Belgrave Square with one of these ladies on either side of him.  He was a tall, gaunt man with a grizzled black beard, a long nose, and such a formidably solemn expression that ambitious parents were in the habit of wishing that their offspring might some day be as wise as Sir Justin Wallingford looked.  His fund of information was prodigious, while his reasoning powers were so remarkable that he had never been known to commit the slightest action without furnishing a full and adequate explanation of his conduct.  Thus the discrimination shown by the Countess in choosing him to restore a lady’s peace of mind will at once be apparent.

“The results of my inquiries,” he pronounced, “have been on the whole of a negative nature.  If this mission on which the Baron von Blitzenberg professes to be employed is in fact of an unusually delicate nature, it is just conceivable that the answer I received from Prince Gommell-Kinchen, when I sounded him at the Khalifa’s luncheon, may have been intended merely to throw dust in my eyes.  At the same time, his highness appeared to speak with the candor of a man who has partaken, not excessively, you understand, but I may say freely, of the pleasures of the table.”

He looked steadily first at one lady and then at the other, to let this point sink in.

“And what did the Prince say?” asked the Baroness, who, in spite of her supreme confidence in her husband, showed a certain eager nervousness inseparable from a judicial inquiry.

“He told me—­I merely give you his word, and not my own opinion; you perfectly understand that, Baroness?”

“Oh yes,” she answered hurriedly.

“He informed me that, in fact, the Baron had been obliged to ask for a fortnight’s leave of absence to attend to some very pressing and private business in connection with his Silesian estates.”

“I think, Alicia, we may take that as final,” said her mother decisively.

“Indeed I shan’t!” cried Alicia warmly.  “That was just an excuse, of course.  Rudolph’s business is so very delicate that—­that—­well, that you could only expect Prince Gommell-Kinchen to say something of that sort.”

“What do you say to that, Sir Justin?” demanded the Countess.

With the air of a man doing what was only his duty, he replied—­

“I say that I think it is improbable.  In fact, since you demand to know the truth, I may inform you that the Prince added that leave of absence was readily given, since the Baron’s diplomatic duties are merely nominal.  To quote his own words, ’Von Blitzenberg is a nice fellow, and it pleases the English ladies to play with him.’ "