"Certainly not," said Mrs. Inglethorp sharply. "What should therebe?" Then catching sight of Dorcas, the parlourmaid, going into thedining-room, she called to her to bring some stamps into the boudoir.
"Yes, m'm." The old servant hesitated, then added diffidently: "Don'tyou think, m'm, you'd better get to bed? You're looking very tired."
"Perhaps you're right, Dorcas--yes--no--not now. I've some letters Imust finish by post-time. Have you lighted the fire in my room as I toldyou?"
"Yes, m'm."
"Then I'll go to bed directly after supper."
She went into the boudoir again, and Cynthia stared after her.
"Goodness gracious! I wonder what's up?" she said to Lawrence.
He did not seem to have heard her, for without a word he turned on hisheel and went out of the house.
I suggested a quick game of tennis before supper and, Cynthia agreeing,I ran upstairs to fetch my racquet.
Mrs. Cavendish was coming down the stairs. It may have been my fancy,but she, too, was looking odd and disturbed.
"Had a good walk with Dr. Bauerstein?" I asked, trying to appear asindifferent as I could.
"I didn't go," she replied abruptly. "Where is Mrs. Inglethorp?"
"In the boudoir."
Her hand clenched itself on the banisters, then she seemed to nerveherself for some encounter, and went rapidly past me down the stairsacross the hall to the boudoir, the door of which she shut behind her.
As I ran out to the tennis court a few moments later, I had to pass theopen boudoir window, and was unable to help overhearing the followingscrap of dialogue. Mary Cavendish was saying in the voice of a womandesperately controlling herself:
"Then you won't show it to me?"
To which Mrs. Inglethorp replied:
"My dear Mary, it has nothing to do with that matter."
"Then show it to me."
"I tell you it is not what you imagine. It does not concern you in theleast."
To which Mary Cavendish replied, with a rising bitterness:
"Of course, I might have known you would shield him."
Cynthia was waiting for me, and greeted me eagerly with:
"I say! There's been the most awful row! I've got it all out of Dorcas."
"What kind of a row?"
"Between Aunt Emily and _him_. I do hope she's found him out at last!"
"Was Dorcas there, then?"
"Of course not. She 'happened to be near the door'. It was a real oldbust-up. I do wish I knew what it was all about."
I thought of Mrs. Raikes's gipsy face, and Evelyn Howard's warnings, butwisely decided to hold my peace, whilst Cynthia exhausted every possiblehypothesis, and cheerfully hoped, "Aunt Emily will send him away, andwill never speak to him again."
I was anxious to get hold of John, but he was nowhere to be seen.Evidently something very momentous had occurred that afternoon. I triedto forget the few words I had overheard; but, do what I would, I couldnot dismiss them altogether from my mind. What was Mary Cavendish'sconcern in the matter?
Mr. Inglethorp was in the drawing-room when I came down to supper. Hisface was impassive as ever, and the strange unreality of the man struckme afresh.
Mrs. Inglethorp came down last. She still looked agitated, and duringthe meal there was a somewhat constrained silence. Inglethorp wasunusually quiet. As a rule, he surrounded his wife with littleattentions, placing a cushion at her back, and altogether playing thepart of the devoted husband. Immediately after supper, Mrs. Inglethorpretired to her boudoir again.
"Send my coffee in here, Mary," she called. "I've just five minutes tocatch the post."
Cynthia and I went and sat by the open window in the drawing-room. MaryCavendish brought our coffee to us. She seemed excited.
"Do you young people want lights, or do you enjoy the twilight?" sheasked. "Will you take Mrs. Inglethorp her coffee, Cynthia? I will pourit out."
"Do not trouble, Mary," said Inglethorp. "I will take it to Emily." Hepoured it out, and went out of the room carrying it carefully.
Lawrence followed him, and Mrs. Cavendish sat down by us.
We three sat for some time in silence. It was a glorious night, hot andstill. Mrs. Cavendish fanned herself gently with a palm leaf.
"It's almost too hot," she murmured. "We shall have a thunderstorm."
Alas, that these harmonious moments can never endure! My paradise wasrudely shattered by the sound of a well known, and heartily disliked,voice in the hall.
"Dr. Bauerstein!" exclaimed Cynthia. "What a funny time to come."
I glanced jealously at Mary Cavendish, but she seemed quite undisturbed,the delicate pallor of her cheeks did not vary.
In a few moments, Alfred Inglethorp had ushered the doctor in, thelatter laughing, and protesting that he was in no fit state for adrawing-room. In truth, he presented a sorry spectacle, being literallyplastered with mud.
"What have you been doing, doctor?" cried Mrs. Cavendish.
"I must make my apologies," said the doctor. "I did not really mean tocome in, but Mr. Inglethorp insisted."
"Well, Bauerstein, you are in a plight," said John, strolling in fromthe hall. "Have some coffee, and tell us what you have been up to."
"Thank you, I will." He laughed rather ruefully, as he described how hehad discovered a very rare species of fern in an inaccessible place,and in his efforts to obtain it had lost his footing, and slippedignominiously into a neighbouring pond.
"The sun soon dried me off," he added, "but I'm afraid my appearance isvery disreputable."
At this juncture, Mrs. Inglethorp called to Cynthia from the hall, andthe girl ran out.
"Just carry up my despatch-case, will you, dear? I'm going to bed."
The door into the hall was a wide one. I had risen when Cynthia did,John was close by me. There were therefore three witnesses who couldswear that Mrs. Inglethorp was carrying her coffee, as yet untasted, inher hand.
My evening was utterly and entirely spoilt by the presence of Dr.Bauerstein. It seemed to me the man would never go. He rose at last,however, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
"I'll walk down to the village with you," said Mr. Inglethorp. "I mustsee our agent over those estate accounts." He turned to John. "No oneneed sit up. I will take the latch-key."