“Hallo!” exclaimed Vane, “here’s Gerald Neston.”
Gerald came hastily up to Mr. Blodwell. “Do you know where George is?” he asked.
“I believe he’s in the club somewhere,” answered Mr. Blodwell.
“No, he isn’t. I want to see him on business.”
Lord Mapledurham rose. “I know your father, Mr. Neston,” he said. “You must allow me to shake hands with you, and congratulate you on your approaching marriage.”
Gerald received his congratulations with an absent air. “I must go and find George,” he said, and went out.
“There!” said Vane, triumphantly. “Don’t you see there’s something up now?”
The elder men tried to snub him, but they glanced at one another and silently admitted that it looked as if he were right.
Mrs. Bort’s letter had stirred into activity all the doubts that Gerald Neston had tried to stifle, and had at last succeeded in silencing. There was a darkly mysterious tone about the document that roused his suspicions. Either there was a new and a more unscrupulous plot against his bride, or else—— Gerald did not finish his train of thought, but he determined to see Neaera at once, as George could not be found without a journey to the Temple, and a journey to the Temple was twice as far as a journey to Albert Mansions. Nevertheless, had Gerald known what was happening at the Temple, he would have gone there first; for in George’s chambers, at that very moment, George was sitting in his chair, gazing blankly at Neaera Witt, who was walking restlessly up and down.