“Yes, sir, this is the bedroom you engaged,” replied the waiter.
“But the lady—my wife is not here?”
“No, sir; the lady in sitting-room No. 11 left the hotel some time ago.”
“Left the hotel!” repeated John Temple, blankly. “Are you sure of this?”
“Yes, sir; I saw her go down the staircase and go out. I felt sure it was the lady from No. 11, as, if you remember, I lit the room after the lady took ill? And I fetched the doctor up for her also.”
A strange, cold feeling crept into John Temple’s heart.
“And you saw her go out?” he repeated.
“Yes, sir; and as she passed through the hall I asked her if she required a cab.”
“And did you get her one?” interrupted John, hastily.
“No, sir; she just shook her head and went out; and you’ll excuse me, sir, mentioning it, but I thought the lady looked very ill.”