In this befitting spirit he drove off that afternoon, and the Baron, after waving his adieus from the door, strode brimful of confidence towards the drawing-room.  His thoughts must have gone astray, for he turned by accident into the wrong room—­a small apartment hardly used at all; and before he had time to turn back he stopped petrified at the sight of a picture on the wall.  There could be no mistake—­it was the original of that ill-omened print he had seen in the Edinburgh hotel, “The Execution of Lord Tulliwuddle.”  The actual title was there plain to see.

“Zen it vas not a hoax!” he gasped.

His first impulse was to look for a bicycle and tear after the dog-cart.

“But can I ride him in a kilt?” he reflected.

By the time he had fully debated this knotty point his friend was miles upon his way, and the Baron was left ruefully to lament his rashness in parting with such an ally.

CHAPTER XXVII

During the horrid period of suspense that followed her visit to Sir Justin, the Baroness von Blitzenberg naturally enough felt disinclined to go much into society, and in fact rarely went out at all during the Baron’s absence, except to the houses of one or two of her mother’s particular friends.  Even then she felt much more inclined to stay at home.

“Need we go to Mrs. Jerwin-Speedy’s to-night?” she said one afternoon.

“Certainly,” replied the Countess decisively.

Alicia sighed submissively; but this attitude was abruptly changed into one of readiness, nay, even of alacrity, when her mother remarked—­

“By the way, she is an aunt of the present Tulliwuddle.  I believe it was you who were asking about him the other day.”

“Was I?” said the Baroness carelessly; but she offered no further objections to attending Mrs. Jerwin-Speedy’s reception.

She found there a large number of people compressed into a couple of small rooms, and she soon felt so lost in the crush of strangers, and the chances of obtaining any information about Lord Tulliwuddle or his Eva seemed so remote, that she soon began to wish herself comfortably at home again, even though it were only to fret.  But fortune, which had so long been unkind to her and indulgent to her erring spouse, chose that night as the turning-point in her tide of favors.  Little dreaming how much hung on a mere introduction, Mrs. Jerwin-Speedy led up to the Baroness an apparently nervous and diffident young man.

“Let me introduce my nephew, Lord Tulliwuddle—­ the Baroness von Blitzenberg,” said she; and having innocently hurled this bomb, retired from further participation in the drama.