A few days later she had no doubt at all.  To her disgust, all the old Spanish point-lace was gone; and Madame Cyprienne had told her plainly that it was her own fault for haggling over the price.  Her ladyship’s disgust was heightened when she found the best piece of all—­a magnificent white mantilla—­in the possession of a rival leader of fashion, who refused to say where she had got it, or how.

She set her emissaries at work, however—­for every great London lady has a dozen devoted, unpaid attaches, ready to do any little commission of this kind—­and the lace was traced back to Colonel Wilders.

“My dear,” she said, one morning, to her lord, “I am afraid Colonel Wilders is very intimate with that Madame Cyprienne.”

“Our eccentric Cousin Bill!  You don’t say so?  Well, there’s no fool like an old fool,” said Lord Essendine, who was a very matter-of-fact, plain-spoken peer.

“I always thought she was an adventuress,” cried Lady Essendine, angrily.

“Then why did you take her up so hotly?  But for you, no one would ever have heard of the woman, least of all Cousin Bill.”

“Well, I have done with her now.  I shall drop her.”

“The mischief’s done.  Unless I am much mistaken, she won’t drop Cousin Bill.”

Lord Essendine, who was, perhaps, behind the scenes, was not wrong in his estimate of the influence Madame Cyprienne exercised.  Before six months were out, Colonel Wilders came, with rather a sheepish air, to the head of the house, and informed him of his approaching marriage to the Countess de Saint Clair.

“That’s a new title to me, Bill.  Foreign, I suppose?” Lord Essendine had the usual contempt of the respectable Briton for titles not mentioned in Debrett or Burke.

“It’s French, I fancy; and for the moment it is in abeyance.  Madame Cyprienne tells me—­”

“Gracious powers, William Wilders! have you fallen into that woman’s clutches?”

“I must ask you, Lord Essendine, to speak more respectfully of the lady I propose to make my wife.”

“You had better not!  I warn you while there is yet time.”

“What do you know against her?” asked the colonel, hotly.

“What do you know of or for her?” replied the peer, quickly.  “I tell you, man, it’s a disgrace to the family.  Lady Essendine will be furious.  If I had any authority over you I would forbid the marriage.  In any case,” he went on, “do not look for any countenance or support from me.”

“I hope we shall be able to get on without your assistance, Lord Essendine.  I thought it my duty to inform you of my marriage, and I think I might have been better received.”

“Stay, you idiot; don’t go off in a huff.  I don’t like the match, I tell you frankly; but I don’t want to quarrel.  Is there anything I can do for you, except attending the wedding?  I won’t do that.”

Colonel Wilders could not bring himself to ask any favours of his unsympathetic kinsman.  Nevertheless, it was through Lord Essendine’s interest that he obtained a snug staff appointment in one of the large garrison towns; and he did not return indignantly the very handsome cheque paid in by his cousin to his account as a wedding present.