"It's the little misses. They've a bin here with their maid, but their nurse have been and fetched 'em away this morning, and a good riddance too."
"Who was the maid?--on your oath!"
"One Deborah Davis, a deaf woman, and pretty nigh a dumb one. She be gone too."
Nor could the old woman tell where she was to be found. "My Lady's woman sent her in," she said, "and she was glad enough to be rid of her."
"Come, now, my good woman, speak out, and it will be better for you," said the Major. "I know my daughter was here yesterday."
"And what do I know of where she be gone? She went off in a sedan-chair this morning before seven o'clock, and if you was to put me to the rack I couldn't say no more."
As to which way or with whom she had gone, the old woman was, apparently, really ignorant.
The poor Major had to return home baffled and despairing, still taking the tipstaff with him, in case, on consultation with Mr. Belamour, it should be deemed expedient to storm Hanover Square itself, and examine Lady Belamour and her servants upon oath.
Behold, the parlour was empty. Even Betty and Eugene were absent. The Major hastened to knock at Mr. Belamour's door. There was no answer; and when he knocked louder it was still in vain. He tried the door and found it locked. Then he retreated to the sitting-room, rang, and made inquiries of the waiter who answered the bell.
Mr. Belamour had received a note at about ten o'clock, and had gone out with him "in great disorder," said the waiter.
At the same moment there was a knock at the door, and a billet was brought in from Lady Belamour. The Major tore it open and read:-"MY DEAR COUSIN, "I grieve for you, but my Suspicions were correct. We have all been completely hoodwinked by that old Villain, my Brother-in-law. I can give him no other Name, for his partial Aberration of Mind has only sharpened his natural Cunning. Would you believe it? He had obtained access to Delavie House, and had there hidden the unfortunate Object of your Search, while he pretended to be assisting you, and this Morning he carried her off in a Sedan. I have sent the good Doves to Bowstead in case he should have the Assurance to return to his old Quarters, but I suspect that they are on the Way to Dover. You had better consult with Hargrave on the means of confirming the strange Marriage Ceremony that has passed between them, since that affords the best Security for your Daughter's Maintenance and Reputation. Believe me, I share in your Distress. Indeed I have so frightful a Megrim that I can scarcely tell what I write, and I dare not admit you to-day.