"Haven't seen or heard anything of him."
"Of course not," said Babba placidly. "I knew he wouldn't. I told Bowdon he wouldn't, but Bowdon wouldn't bet. Give me a wire, though."
Hazlewood's dresser was ready with a telegraph-form and Babba, in the wantonness of exuberant triumph, sent a message to Bowdon's house asserting positively that Mr. Fenning had not come. That evening Bowdon dined with Irene, and the telegram, forwarded by messenger, reached him there. After dinner Alice ran in to give news of a rather better character concerning her father. She also heard the contents of Babba Flint's message. Ora's underlying desire for a sensation would have been satisfied. They were all amazed.
"This morning she thought he had come," Irene persisted. "I wonder if Ashley Mead knows anything about it. Have you seen him, Alice?"
"No; he telegraphed that he couldn't possibly come to Kensington Palace Gardens to-day, but would early to-morrow."
Alice's tone was cold; Ashley ought to have gone to Kensington Palace Gardens that day, she thought.
"It's very odd, isn't it, Frank?" asked Irene.
"It's not our affair," said Bowdon; he was rather uncomfortable.
"Except," said Irene with a glance at Alice and an air of reserved determination, "that we have to consider a little what sort of person she really is. I don't know what to make of it, do you, Alice?"
No less puzzled was Ashley Mead as he kept guard on the man to whom he had transferred the name of Metcalfe Brown, and wondered how he was to persevere in his assertion that the man had not come. For here the man was, and, alas, by now the man was peevishly anxious to see his wife; from no affection, Ashley was ready to swear, but, as it seemed, in a sort of fretful excitement. No doubt even to such a creature the present position was uncomfortable; possibly it appeared even degrading.