and in the meantime I beg of you keep quiet, or Mary will hear you in the corridor. I shall tell her you are ill and on no account to be disturbed."
Augusta apparently listened to reason, for gradually her features relaxed and she ceased whimpering. Prudence put on her bonnet, veil, and mantle, tucked in the elderly infant, locked the doors carefully, warned Mary, and started off to find the explorer's widow.
The poor lady's mind was a chaos of conflicting thought and emotions as she wound her way through the Bloomsbury squares to Handel Street. No. 194 was gaunt and dingy. Over the door hung a framed card, bearing the legend, "Apartments," and on the sill of the dining-room window sat a black cat, lazily washing herself in the sun. In answer to repeated ringing, a dirty servant, with her cap all to one side, opened the door.
"Mrs. Geldheraus," she said, "she ain't here. Left this morning first thing, she did. Had a tellygram last night to hurry up."
Prudence never knew till that moment when her heart sank heavy as lead, how hope had buoyed her up.
"Where has she gone to?" she asked feebly. "Will she return?
