"Does Mrs. Usselex dine out, do you know?" Maule asked.
"I don't think Mrs. Usselex is coming back, sir," was the answer.
"You mean that Mrs. Usselex will not return until late, I suppose."
To this the man made no reply; he scratched the end of his nose reflectively. In his face was an expression that arrested Maule's attention.
"What do you mean?" he asked, a sudden suspicion entering his mind.
But still the man made no answer. He raised his arms, the elbows crooked, and assumed the appearance of an idiot.
"It is worth five dollars," Maule continued. "Here they are;" and with that he extended a bill of the nation, which the servant took, and then, glancing over his shoulder, whispered:
"Mrs. Usselex has gone to her father's, sir. I distrust something's hup."
"That man ought to be dismissed," Maule decided, as he hurried down the steps. "I say, cabby," he called to the hansom; "Second Avenue and Stuyvesant Square."
"Damn it all," he muttered, as he seated himself in the vehicle. "I am afraid I am late for the ball."