"You should see him!" he answered forcibly, "I swear you'd hardly know him; since he got your letter, he looks like an old man!"
"You say you have a car here?"
"Yes—I'll get back in something over an hour; the man is on the rack—and the sooner I am off the better."
As Mrs. Rochfort stood and surveyed her visitor, her face assumed a strained, and irresolute expression, after a very long silence—she drew her hand across her wet forehead, and in a voice strangely thin and high said:
"If you will wait five minutes,—I will go with you!"
CHAPTER XIX
It was bright moonlight—an orange hot-weather moon—as Mrs. Rochfort and her escort, leaving behind them the sound of trams, tom-toms, and fire-works, sped smoothly out of Madras, and away into the sleepy country. Naturally everything she beheld was new to the lady, yet in one sense she saw nothing but her miserable, weak husband, and his family of half-caste children. What could she say or do? how deal with the situation? It was true, as this young fellow had declared, that hers was the stronger character, and before pronouncing judgment she resolved to see and hear the culprit.
Mallender for his part instinctively realised the many vital questions that were being debated in the mind of his rigidly motionless companion, and maintained a prudent silence.
At last, the car stopped at the great wooden gate, and before this could be unfastened, the postern opened quickly, and Mota flew out—a pretty vision, in her white lace frock, and streaming hair.