His face was as pale as hers, but was set and stern.
"Well, I thought I had better run down to this place, Portmaris, and see for myself how matters were going," he said, in a kind of business-like coolness and indifference, "and—and I found that Miss—what is her name?" he asked, as if he had forgotten.
"Lisle—Leslie Lisle," said Lady Eleanor.
"Ah, yes! Miss Lisle had flown."
"Flown?"
"Yes, flown and disappeared. Disappeared so completely that all my efforts to discover her track failed."
He still spoke calmly and with affected indifference, but if she herself had not been so agitated she would have noticed the pallor of his face and the restless movement of his hands.
"What—what do you think it means?" she asked, in a whisper.
He shrugged his shoulders.
"A lovers' quarrel—but no; it is more shame than that. Yes; I should say that the engagement was broken off for some reason or other, so that you have had all this trouble and expense for nothing, Lady Eleanor."