“I must go to London!” he muttered. “I must find out what has happened.”
But he remembered that if the clocks were right and the Wedding plans had not miscarried, Tina would already be on the way to Newmarket.
He suddenly made up his mind to do something different.
He turned to one of the footmen waiting in the hall.
“Bring me my duelling pistols,” he ordered.
“Very good, my Lord.”
The box was brought to him and he took them both out.
It would not take him very long to prime and load them and, mounting his horse, he galloped not in the direction of London, but to the habitual camping ground of the gypsies.
He guessed even before he arrived there that they would be gone. There were the smoking ashes of what had been a fire, but the caravans had disappeared.
He sat on his horse look
