Mallow finished his coffee and cigar. Then he lit a fresh one, slipped on his coat--for the night was chilly--and strolled round to the big hotel. He was shown at once to Mrs. Carson's sitting-room. He found her almost as much agitated as she had been when he left her.
"Oh, Laurence!" she said, calling him by his Christian name in her excitement. "How glad I am that you have come. She has gone!"
"She has gone? Who has gone?" asked Laurence, pausing in the act of removing his coat.
"Clara--my maid," replied Olive. "I cannot understand it at all. She appeared perfectly content with her place, and said nothing about leaving. It was only when I sent for her to dress me for dinner that I found she had gone. What can it mean?"
"It probably seems extraordinary to you," replied Mallow, coolly; "but I confess I am not surprised. Your Clara has gone to join Carson."
Olive gasped. "To join my husband?" she said incredulously. "What has Clara to do with him?"
"That is what I should like to know. Carson has been in the habit of meeting this girl for some time past. Before you were married, Aldean saw them together; but he carefully refrained from letting me know anything about it until quite recently. I suppose he was afraid of what I should do to the scoundrel. Save, under the present circumstances, I should not have told you. But, as I have little doubt she has gone to him, it is right you should know."
"Oh!" cried Olive, suddenly recollecting; "then she was the woman I saw! The night before my husband left me I saw him talking with a woman quite close to the hotel. I recognized him but her face I could not see. Yes, it must have been Clara."
"The scoundrel!" murmured Mallow, "there is clearly something between him and the girl. She was probably a spy."
"A spy--on me? For what reason?"