"Probably."
"Why did Lady Marchmount say she was not in her box when she was?"
"Don't ask me conundrums: at the same time, my dear boy, let me tell you that I would not believe Lady Marchmount on her oath; they are a self-seeking lot, the Marchmounts; they could make nothing of loyalty and Toryism and that kind of business, so they came over to us, and now they out-Herod Herod in their intrigues and professed ambitions."
"Then they might be taking hand in a Nihilist plot?"
"They would not mind engaging their dirty hands in anything," said Lady Forsyth, with a tone of unsuppressed contempt.
"But the countess is a staunch Russian of the old régime."
"Is she?" asked Lady Forsyth.
"Is she not?" was Philip's rejoinder.
"What is it to you or me, Philip dear, what she is? For the moment she is interesting, has had a romantic career, is beautiful, has sat to you; for heaven's sake, let us be content. If you ask me what sort of a woman it is who has such a secretary as Ferrari, I should say she might be anything—a Nihilistic adventuress, or a duchess who loves curiosities."
"Whatever she is, mother, depend upon it she is a high-minded and noble woman, and if she had devoted herself to some great act of national duty that might involve her life, I should not be surprised."
"I hope she has not inspired my dear boy with some romantic fancy," said Lady Forsyth. "In the first place, she is ten years your elder; in the next place, she has been married twice; how often she may have been divorced, who can say?"
Philip felt the color come into his checks at the sug-
