"Very good, sir," said the man, and noiselessly he turned and left the room.
Little did Stella, dreaming in the cottage by the sweet smelling meadows and the murmuring river, think that the first woof of the web which Jasper Adelstone was spinning for her was commenced that night in the grim chambers of Lincoln's-inn.
As little did Lady Wyndward guess, as she lay awake, vainly striving to find some means of averting the consequences of her son's "infatuation" for the painter's niece, that a keener and less scrupulous mind had already set to work in the same direction.
[CHAPTER XVII.]
Jasper undressed and went to bed, and slept as soundly as men of his peculiar caliber do sleep, while Scrivell was standing at the corner of a street in Covent Garden, with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the entrance to King's Hotel. A little after nine Jasper awoke, had his bath, dressed, went out, got some breakfast, and sat down to work, and for the time being forgot—actually forgot—that such an individual as Stella Etheridge existed.
That was the secret of his power, that he could concentrate his attention on one subject to the absolute abnegation of all others.
Several visitors put in an appearance on business, Jasper opening the door by means of a wire which drew back the handle, without moving.
At about half-past twelve someone knocked. Jasper opened the door, and a tall, fashionably-dressed young gentleman entered.
It was a certain Captain Halliday, who had been one of the guests at Wyndward Hall on the first night of our introduction there.