Geoffrey smiled again as he finished this letter. Who could have believed a year ago that he would have been to-day in a position to receive such an epistle from the Prime Minister of England? Ah, here was the luck of the Drowned One's shoe with a vengeance. And what was it all worth to him now?
He put the letter in his pocket with the telegram and looked out. They were turning into Bolton Street. How was little Effie, he wondered? The child seemed all that was left him to care for. If anything happened to her--bah, he would not think of it!
He was there now. "How is Miss Effie?" he asked of the servant who opened the door. At that moment his attention was attracted by the dim forms of two people, a man and a woman, who were standing not far from the area gate, the man with his arm round the woman's waist. Suddenly the woman appeared to catch sight of the cab and retired swiftly down the area. It crossed his mind that her figure was very like that of Anne, the French nurse.
"Miss Effie is doing nicely, sir, I'm told," answered the man.
Geoffrey breathed more freely. "Where is her ladyship?" he asked. "In Effie's room?"
"No, sir," answered the man, "her ladyship has gone to a ball. She left this note for you in case you should come in."
He took the note from the hall table and opened it.
"Dear Geoffrey," it ran, "Effie is so much better that I have made up my mind to go to the duchess's ball after all. She would be so disappointed if I did not come, and my dress is quite lovely. Had your mysterious business anything to do with Bryngelly?-"Yours, Honoria."
"She would go on to a ball from her mother's funeral," said Geoffrey to himself, as he walked up to Effie's room; "well, it is her nature and there's an end of it."
He knocked at the door of Effie's room. There was no answer, so he walked in. The room was lit but empty--no, not quite! On the floor, clothed only in her white night-shirt, lay his little daughter, to all appearance dead.
With something like an oath he sprang to her and lifted her. The face was pale and the small hands were cold, but the breast was still hot and fevered, and the heart beat. A glance showed him what had happened. The child being left alone, and feeling thirsty, had got out of bed and gone to the water bottle--there was the tumbler on the floor. Then weakness had overcome her and she had fainted--fainted upon the cold floor with the inflammation still on her.