She seemed to have
forgotten Doris, when she heard an exclamation:--
"Ah, there _is_ the telegram!"
And Doris, running to the window, waved to a diminutive telegraph boy,
who, being new to his job, had come up to the front entrance of the
Lodge instead of the back, and was now--recognising his
misdeed--retreating in alarm from the mere aspect of "the great
fortified post." He saw the lady at the window, however, and checked his
course.
"For me!" cried Doris, triumphantly--and she tore it open.
Can't arrive till between eight and nine. Think I have got all we
want. Please take a room for me at hotel.--ALICE WIGRAM.
Doris turned back into the room, and handed the telegram to Lady
Dunstable, who read it slowly.
"Did you say this was the Alice Wigram I knew?"
"Her father had one of your livings," repeated Doris. "He died last
year."
"I know. I quarrelled with him. I cannot conceive why Alice Wigram
should do me a good turn!" Lady Dunstable threw back her head, her
challenging look fixed upon her visitor.
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