Then he sighed. He could not go on this errand of life or death without saying "good-bye" to his wife. And yet he shrank from it as he now shrank from nothing else connected with the affair. But it had to be done, and he went into her apartments and knocked at the bedroom door which Austin Ambrose had closed after him. There came no answer, and Blair, after waiting for a minute or two, turned away.
He went to the writing table, and taking out a sheet of the scented paper stamped with its gold coronet, wrote a line.
"Good-bye, Violet! Heaven send you every happiness.
Blair."
This he put in an envelope and laid it on the slope where she would see it when she entered the room; which she would do about ten o'clock. If he came out of this affair alive he should return long before that hour and could destroy the note.
Then he put on his cloak, and as quietly as possible left the house. The morning air struck coldly, and with a little shudder he turned up the collar of his coat and lit a cigar.
As the clocks chimed half-past five he reached the ground behind the hospital. A carriage and pair stood under the shelter of some trees, and near it was a group of three men. Blair distinguished the prince by his height; the second man was the general, and the third Blair judged to be the doctor; but Austin Ambrose was not there.
"My friend Mr. Ambrose has not arrived, I see," said Blair cheerfully. "I'm very sorry; but I have no doubt he will be here directly. He left word that he would be here before me."
"He will arrive in a minute or two, no doubt," said the general.
Blair went and leaned against a tree and smoked his cigar placidly. The prince stood at a little distance with folded arms, looking like a statue—a statue of implacability—the other two paced up and down.