He thought that her ladyship was fibbing.
"Why do you sign it 'Pollyooly' ?" he said.
"Because it's my name," said Pollyooly.
Mr.Wilkinson shook his head with a yet sadder air.

Had she been the daughter of a commoner, he would not have let her send the telegram; as it was he did.

Half-way to the station he had grown yet more curious about it; and he asked her again why she had sent it.
"You'll know all about it when we get to London," said Pollyooly coldly.
He could get no more from her.
They lunched on the train, and under the expanding influence of a small bottle of champagne, the air of Mr.Wilkinson grew more and more triumphant at the success of his difficult mission.
When they descended from the train he clasped Pollyooly's right hand firmly, the detective clasped her left, and they walked down the platform.

They had not gone thirty yards when they met the Honourable John Ruffin smiling agreeably.
"Hullo, Wilkinson! How are you ?" he said cheerfully.
"How are you, Mr.Ruffin?
At last we've found her little ladyship, and we're taking her to his grace.

He will be pleased," said Mr.Wilkinson in tones of ringing triumph.
"Will he?
Where is she ?" said the Honourable John Ruffin with an air of lively curiosity.
"Here," said Mr.Wilkinson, drawing Pollyooly forward.
"Where ?" said the Honourable John Ruffin, looking at Pollyooly with a somewhat puzzled air.
"Here!" said Mr.Wilkinson a little louder.
"Oh--_there_ ?" said the Honourable John Ruffin.