“I have come all the way from England post haste, Mr. Howard,” he said. “You can guess on what mission.”
“I’m not fond of guessing,” said Varley.
Norman dashed into it at once.
“Is—is Esmeralda here?” he asked.
“Before I answer that question, Lord Druce,” replied Varley, with his most languid drawl, “permit me to ask you what business that is of yours?”
Norman was taken aback for a moment. He was tired to death, and the excitement of his sudden meeting with Varley, coming on top of his anxiety to know whether Esmeralda was indeed there, confused him.
“I grant your right to ask that question,” he said, “but I have come all the way from London in search of her, I am a friend of her husband.”
It was an unlucky speech.
“Then allow me to inform you that you are no friend of mine, Lord Druce!” said Varley, with a tightening of his lips; “and I should advise you to go back to England.”
“Then she is here!” said Norman, with a short breath of relief. “Mr. Howard, I must see her—I must see her at once. There has been a hideous mistake!”