As our letters had arrived, I concluded that my chaperon had received some important news, and never gave the matter another thought.
Strange to say that morning there were none of the usual visitors; a certain number of our intimates and neighbours generally looked in, in passing, to ask questions, make engagements, exchange bits of news, and to borrow or to lend. To-day not a soul appeared! The veranda was a desert, save for the dirzee and myself. This did not strike me as odd, because most people of our acquaintance were fagged after the previous night’s excitement, and were no doubt “lying low” in anticipation of the evening’s entertainment.
Towards four o’clock I put on my tennis shoes, took my racket and sauntered off to the club, where I had engaged to make up a set with Dolly Dane. I found already awaiting me Dolly, Captain Learoyd and the padre. I noticed that they were talking eagerly together, but ceased abruptly as I approached within earshot, and there seemed none of the usual eagerness about starting a game.
“What is the matter?” I asked. “You all look so very grave. Is anyone dead—or has there been an accident?”
“Well—er—no accident,” said the padre, and he glanced significantly at Dolly, who, taking my arm, led me aside.
“My dear Eva,” she began. “I am sorry to say I’ve the most awful thing to tell you,” and she paused.
“Oh do be quick!” I urged. “It’s my brother—is he ill?”
“No, no,” she replied, with a jerk of impatience. “It’s about Mrs. Hayes-Billington, your chaperon. It seems that she is the heroine of a terrible divorce case. She was a Mrs. de Lacy; her husband had a civil appointment up in the Punjab. She was always lovely, but outrageously fast. Four years ago she ran away with an officer up in Cashmere. Mrs. Hancock, who is staying with us, knew all about it and nearly had a fit last evening when she saw the notorious Mrs. de Lacy taking the principal part in Mother’s theatricals.”
“Oh, Dolly,” I gasped, “it cannot be true!”
“But it is,” she reiterated, “and the case was so scandalous and shameless, that the Hancocks are astonished that she had the audacity ever to return to India. They say she is already beginning in her old style, turning the heads of young men, and having horrid little card parties. It is a fearful shock for the whole station. Mother has written to her. There will be no theatricals, the notice has been posted up on the board this morning. Of course she must have got hold of you under false pretences. Mother says you are to come to us at once. W. will send down for your things.”