IN WHICH THE CONSUL AND MRS. SCARSDALE EMULATE THE KING OF FRANCE AND TWENTY THOUSAND OF HIS COMPATRIOTS
Another day was dawning, a day that was destined to be most arduous, eventful, and important in the lives of all those with whom this narrative has to deal. Yet, at this hour in the morning, Carrington, sitting shivering on his bedside; Lady Melton, listening in her chamber for the departing footsteps of the faithful Bright; Aunt Eliza, drinking an early cup of coffee in preparation for a long day's work; the Consul and Mrs. Scarsdale, journeying to Southampton; Slippery Dick, pouncing on the sometime owner of elephants at a way-side alehouse; Scarsdale, pacing his prison cell; Mrs. Allingford, waiting, 'twixt hope and fear, for news of her husband; and the elephant, shrieking in his box-stall—these, one and all, entered regretfully upon this day fraught with so many complications.
Carrington had decided, as he wended his way home to the hotel after his somewhat startling encounter with the Consul's unregenerate brother, that he was in no wise bound to report the matter to the authorities. His mission was to extricate Mr. Scarsdale from unjust imprisonment, not to incriminate any one else; and he foresaw that any attempt on his part to interfere, as an avenger of justice, might entail subsequent attendance at the local police court whenever the true culprit fell into the hands of the law.
When Jack had thus determined on his course of action, he resigned himself peacefully to slumber, of which he stood much in need; but no sooner, apparently, had his head touched the pillow than he was awakened by a knocking at his chamber door. In reply to his sleepy inquiries, he was informed that Mrs. Allingford was up and in the ladies' drawing-room, and would much appreciate it if she could see him as soon as possible.
Carrington replied that he would be happy to wait on her in a few minutes, as soon as he was dressed, in fact, and cursed himself heartily for having been fool enough to be any one's best man. Half-past six! It was inhuman to call him up at such a time. He had not had three hours' sleep. He wished himself at Melton Court more than ever. There, at least, they rose at decent hours.
As he entered the hotel drawing-room, a few minutes later, in a somewhat calmer frame of mind, due to a bath and a cup of coffee, Mrs. Allingford rose to meet him, took both his hands in hers, and, holding them tightly, stood for a moment with her upturned eyes looking fixedly into his. He would never have known her for the happy bride of two short days ago; she seemed more like a widow, years older, and with all the joy of her youth crushed out by trouble.
"Words cannot express what your coming means to me. It is the kindest thing you've ever done," she said simply; but her tone and manner told him of her gratitude and relief.
"It is very little to do," he replied, feeling, all at once, that he had been a brute not to have seen her the night before.
"My husband! Oh, tell me about my husband!" she exclaimed, dropping all restraint.
"What a child she was, in spite of her wedding-ring!" he thought; but he felt very sorry for her, and answered gently: