"At once," he repeated, as if to himself. "Lady Eleanor, I see a carafe of water on that side table; will you allow me——." He rose and crossed the room and drank nearly a glassful of water, while Lady Eleanor pressed him to allow her to ring for wine.
"No, no. Water, I prefer water. I am almost a teetotaler. Thanks, thanks," he waved his hand impatiently, almost imperiously. "And is that all you know? Do you know the place they are going to be married at?"
"No," she said. "Lord Auchester is in London," she added after a moment; "I saw him this morning."
He leant his head on his hand so that his face was almost completely concealed from her.
"In London. To be married at once," he repeated. He looked up. "I am thinking, Lady Eleanor——."
"Oh, yes, yes," she breathed, leaning forward. "I know if you will only think you will find some way. It is a shame to bother and trouble you——."
He smiled grimly.
"Don't mention it. Let me see." He put his hand to his forehead. "He is fearfully in debt. Some of those bills are long overdue. Do you think he means to leave the country?" He asked the question suddenly, with a flash.
"I—I don't know. He must, I should think."
"I see—I see," he said. "Say, don't be too hopeful, too sanguine. But—well, the law has long claws still, though we have pared them down pretty considerably. And in the city its claws are longer than elsewhere. That's an anomaly, but it's true. In a city court of law you can do strange things. For instance, if a man owes me money and I go and swear that I have reason to believe that he is intending to leave the country—to abscond, in short—the court has an almost forgotten power to stop that man. The machinery is antiquated and rusty, but—but it may be made to work." He rose. A strange light was burning in his eyes, a hectic flush on his pale and rather hollow cheeks. "Lady Eleanor——."