Mr. Vimpany
struggled no longer to express his feelings--he had made his last
sacrifice to appearances--he caught the train.
The door of the room had been left open. A voice outside said: "Has he
gone?"
"Come in, Fanny," said Mountjoy. "He will return to London either
to-night or to-morrow morning."
The strange maid put her head in at the door. "I'll be at the
terminus," she said, "and make sure of him."
Her head suddenly disappeared, before it was possible to speak to her
again. "Was there some other person outside? The other person entered
the room; it was Lord Harry. He spoke without his customary smile.
"I want a word with you, Mr. Mountjoy."
"About what, my lord?"
That direct question seemed to confuse the Irishman. He hesitated.
"About you," he said, and stopped to consider. "And another person," he
added mysteriously.
Hugh was constitutionally a hater of mysteries. He felt the need of a
more definite reply, and asked for it plainly:
"Does your lordship associate that other person with me?"
"Yes, I do."
"Who is the person?"
"My wife."
CHAPTER XXX
SAXON AND CELT
WHEN amicable relations between two men happen to be in jeopardy, there
is least danger of an ensuing quarrel if the friendly intercourse has
been of artificial growth, on either side.
Pages:
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294