Once there he put on his dressing-gown and slippers, flung himself into an arm-chair, and resumed at his ease the chain of thought which had been so frequently interrupted. But now it contained a new element, which had been imported into it by his mother's last words. Immediately Madame Du Tertre returned to the house she would receive notice that her services would be speedily dispensed with. What would be the Frenchwoman's feelings at such an intimation? She had given
no sign of any intention to leave her present quarters in Great Walpole-street; but, on the contrary, seemed to consider herself completely settled there for some time to come, and was unquestionably desirous of retaining her power over Mrs. Calverley. That, Martin recollected, she had not scrupled to acknowledge to him. On the other hand, inexperienced as Martin was in matters of the world, he had sufficient tact to perceive that his mother, for her own purposes, had always been particularly civil to Madame Du Tertre, and both by her speeches and her actions had led the Frenchwoman to believe that her presence in Great Walpole-street was indispensable to the well-being of the household. When, then, Madame Du Tertre on her return from Hendon is informed by Mrs. Calverley that different arrangements are about to be made, under which her companionship will be no longer required, when she receives that which, no matter how much politeness is imported into the manner of giving it, is in fact her dismissal, will she not, with that shrewdness and suspicion which are so eminently characteristic of her, at once define that this is not the act of Mrs. Calverley, who has always hitherto been so partial to her, but that this conduct on his mother's part is due to his influence? And provided that she attaches importance to the retention of her position in the Great Walpole-street household, as Martin undoubtedly believes she does, will she not instantly seek to revenge herself for what she imagines to be his interference, and has she not a subject for her vengeance immediately to her hand in poor helpless Alice?
Who was this woman? What were the motives prompting her to the game she was playing? And what would be its result?
The future seemed all dark and vague. The mist hung over it as it did over the sleeping city, a shivering glance at which Martin took from his bedroom window, and saw the first streaks of the wintry dawn struggling fitfully through the black clouds ere he retired to rest.
[CHAPTER X.]
THE SMALL HOURS IN HENDON.
One o'clock tolled out from the tower of Hendon church as Pauline, who, wearied out by the events of the day, had fallen sound asleep in her chair, opened her eyes, sat upright, and, after an involuntary shudder, quietly rose to her feet and approached the bed.
Alice still slept peacefully; her breathing was quiet and regular, and her unruffled brow and motionless lips proved that she was not disturbed by haunting dreams. Pauline bent over the slumbering figure, took up the arm that lay outside the coverlet, and softly felt its pulse, bent her ear towards the sleeper's mouth to listen to her respiration, and then, stealing back to her place as noiselessly as she had approached, threw herself into her chair, and indulged in the luxury of a long but silent yawn.
'There,' she said to herself, rubbing her eyes, and resuming her usual comfortable attitude, 'I was right in not denying myself the pleasure of that slumber which I found coming over me, for I am thoroughly refreshed, and equal to very much more than I was before. What a day it has been, my faith! And how wonderfully everything has gone exactly as I could have wished it! This woman sleeping straight on, steadily and tranquil, and without a break; the servants accepting me in the position which I took up so promptly, without a murmur, and only too glad to find the responsibility transferred from themselves to some one else. Responsibility? That reminds me of that sly doctor--how do they call him?--Broadbent! It was right of me to send for him; it might have seemed suspicious had I not done so; and as I knew
so well that he had been perforce admitted into the mystery of Claxton-Calverley, and as I had learned from the servants here that he was always most friendly and kind to this poor doll, I knew that I could explain to him what I had done, and leave it to him to put the people here at their ease. He was out, though, this sly rogue--out, and not expected back until the evening, so they said, though five minutes afterwards I saw a man, who must have been he--black-clothed, grave, the very semblance of an apothecary--come out of the side-door of his garden, and hurry down the path where I stood when I first saw the child. Ah, ha! he has no longer any desire to visit Rose Cottage, this medico so respectable; he fears lest his name should be compromised. I could not help laughing as I saw him creep down the path.
'Let me see. I am rested now, and my head is quite clear. Last night there was danger of interruption from the servants, and they have been in and out all day, but now they are thoroughly wearied out, and I have the house to myself. Now is the time for me to look about me, and gain what information I can concerning this young woman's previous life. I think I saw a box or desk of some kind by the side of the dressing-table. O, yes, here it is. What a funny old box!' Pauline walked to the dressing-table, stooped, and from underneath the muslin cover drew forth an old-fashioned writing-desk, made of mahogany, and bound with brass, with a small brass plate on the middle of its lid, on which were engraved the letters A.D.' This inscription caught Pauline's eyes as she took up the desk and placed it on the table by the bedside, within the rays of the shaded lamp.
'A.D.,' she muttered to herself. 'What does that mean? It ought undoubtedly to have been A.C. Ah, stay; the box is old-fashioned, and has seen much service. It is probably the desk of her childhood, that she had before what she thought to be her marriage, when the letters of her name were A.D. A.D.' repeated Pauline, reflecting. 'Ah, bah! It is a coincidence, nothing more.' From her pocket she took two bunches of keys, one large, evidently belonging to the housekeeping, the other small and neat. From the smaller bunch she made two or three selections, and at last hit upon the key that opened the desk.