That single impulse had rendered this impossible. She did know who the real criminal was, did know that it was an innocent man upon whom suspicion had fallen, did know the injustice of it all; and yet her lips were sealed and she was dumb. From the moment of Ralph's arrest until the moment at the assizes when the jury failed to agree upon a verdict, she had remained in London, unable to tear herself away from the dreadful fascination of his danger. She had confidently anticipated his acquittal, and the relief she would have experienced at knowing that an innocent man would not suffer death, would have been the saving of her own life and reason. But although she had endured the torments of suspense so long, her strength was exhausted and she could endure no more. If, next time, Ralph were convicted, Lavender felt sure that the horror of his impending doom would drive her mad. It was better if he had to die that she should not know it, should only learn of it long after it had happened. She must go away, and at once.
That was the conclusion at which she arrived immediately after the abortive trial, and Mr. Tracy's visits to The Vale only confirmed her resolution. She was satisfied that his object in calling was to identify her as Lady Holt, and that identification only meant the substitution of one disaster for another. So, after his second visit, she determined to do what her maid had professed she was upon the point of doing, and leave for the Continent that week. Had it not been for the necessity of seeing Melville, she would have made an effort to start the following day, but she could not leave without making some arrangement with him for the communication of urgent news, and this involved the settlement of some definite route to which she must adhere, and also the invention of some code, under the seeming innocence of which the most startling information might be sent to her without attracting attention.
Moreover, houses cannot be casually left in London, unless, perhaps, by the very rich, who have servants to whose care they can entrust everything just as it is at any moment; and Lavender had all the house-pride and affection for her goods and chattels that makes English home life so indicative of English character. Having decided to go away, she set about doing the thousand things that must be done ere she could lock all the doors and windows, and abandon her house to the formal custody of the caretaker.
She stood in the drawing-room buttoning her gloves, and looked around her. All the silver ornaments, the ivories and needlework were put away, and the place wore a cheerless look. She would be glad when the morrow came and she turned her back upon it for an indefinite time. If only she could leave her misery behind as well, with what a different feeling she would start upon her journey! But that could not be; only death could bring her that emancipation.
Leaving Lucille upstairs to finish packing, Lavender went round to the tradesmen to pay their several books and give instructions that they should not call for orders until they heard from her again. She completed her round of visits with an odd sense of having come to the end of a period in her existence, and was walking listlessly homewards, when the thought struck her that she must lose no time if she wanted to be sure of conveying a message to Melville before he left home, as she knew he generally did after his mid-day meal. It was to be a verbal message, given by Lucille to him in person, and it must be carefully worded, so as to arouse no speculations in the servant's mind. She walked briskly back and called Lucille.
"I want you to go to Jermyn Street at once," she said, "and take a message to Mr. Ashley. His chambers are on the top floor, and you can go up to his door without telling the hall porter whose rooms you are going to. Say you must see him himself, and when you do, give him my compliments, say I am going abroad to-morrow, and ask him if he will take me out to dinner to-night, and tell you where and when I shall meet him."
"And if he isn't in?"
"Don't deliver the message to anybody but Mr. Ashley. If he isn't in you must go again later on, but you will see him if you go now. Take a cab, so as to make sure."
Inwardly Lucille was a little surprised, for she had seen much less of Melville lately, and hoped that his great intimacy with Lavender was diminishing. She looked forward to a time when Sir Ross Buchanan would pick up the dropped threads of his courtship and draw her mistress into a safe haven of matrimony, from which Mr. Ashley, with all other disturbing influences, would be permanently excluded. That very morning, when packing, she had hesitated as to whether she should or should not put into one of the portmanteaux the large silver-framed photograph of the little baronet, which always stood on Lavender's dressing-table, and she had only decided not to do so because on this occasion she was anxious to take nothing which might remind her mistress of the immediate past. But of all this the good creature made no sign. She donned her hat and gloves, and, selecting a hansom with a likely-looking horse, soon arrived at Jermyn Street.
Acting upon her mistress's instructions, she walked upstairs and knocked at Melville's door. It was opened by Jervis, who looked at her approvingly.