"I think not, Audrey. A few weeks in Paris may cause you to change your mind, since you will not be seeing that rascal Shawe every day, as I have reason to believe you are doing."
"I see Ralph whenever I can," Audrey confessed, candidly and defiantly, "and if you do not consent to my marriage with him I shall run away."
"By all means, if you choose to risk the loss of your dowry," said Sir Joseph, grimly. "I hold the purse, remember, and if you disobey me not one shilling of my money will you get. I don't intend to talk of this matter any more to you. Either you do what I want or I shall disown you as a daughter. In Paris you may perhaps make up your mind," and without another glance at the pale-faced girl Branwin left the room.
But Audrey was still unconquered. Her father took the wrong tone with her when he hoped to bully her into compliance. Had he spoken affectionately and been more amiable she might have overlooked his previous neglect, and have striven to please him. "But whatever he said or did," muttered the girl to herself, "I should never consent to marry Lord Anvers." So it seemed that Sir Joseph's design of sending her abroad for reflection was likely to prove useless.
The time Audrey had appointed for her lover to call was eight o'clock; but he did not make his appearance. Sir Joseph had not gone out, as the girl had expected him to, and was writing letters in his library. Alone in her late mother's sitting-room Audrey paced to and fro, with her eyes on the timepiece. At half-past eight she grew quite sick with apprehension, as she began to believe that something must have happened to Ralph, or else that he was afraid to face her. Perhaps, after all, Ralph, since he had written the letter, had something to do with the crime, as he so pointedly avoided a meeting. Audrey felt that she could not pass the night without knowing the truth, and at a quarter to nine o'clock made up her mind that as her lover would not come to her she would go to him. He had chambers in the Temple, as she well knew; for when Lady Branwin was alive they had gone there to have afternoon tea with the young barrister. It was impossible to remain in a state of suspense any longer, so Audrey ran up to her room, changed from her dinner dress into a quiet walking frock, and stole out of the house as unobstrusively as she could. Fortunately she had a couple of pounds in her purse, so did not hesitate to call a cab. In a very short time she was speeding along in a taxi on her rash errand.
And it was rash. Here she was, a young girl, going by night to call on a young bachelor. Even though she was engaged to him, this daring was enough to make every matron in Society shriek with horror. While driving through the lighted streets, Audrey could not help thinking of what Mrs. Mellop would say did she know of this escapade; for the little widow herself was terribly afraid of Mrs. Grundy, and, although lively enough under the rose, would never have dared to act in this way. But the girl did not care. Mrs. Mellop was not likely to hear about the matter, and, even if she did, Audrey was too anxious and worried to take notice of spiteful remarks. Her whole life's happiness was at stake, and she felt that it was impossible to wait any longer for an explanation. Ralph apparently knew something, and in some way was connected with what took place on that fatal night. What that something might be Audrey dreaded to think. All the same, she was determined to know what it was. She could bear anything save suspense.
On arriving in Fleet Street the girl dismissed her cab, and walked into the Gardens, wherein rose the tall pile of buildings containing Shawe's chambers. A shilling and a word to a friendly hall-porter soon procured her admission into the building, and she went up in the lift to the third floor. Knowing Ralph's number, she rang the bell, wondering if he was at home, or if her journey had been in vain. In a few minutes the door was opened, and the barrister himself appeared. For the moment, as Audrey wore a veil, he did not recognise her in the dim light of the passage.
"May I inquire what you want?" he asked politely.
"Ralph!" said the girl, faintly, and leant against the wall, as the strength which had kept her up was now failing her.
"Good heavens, Audrey!" cried Shawe, dismay. "What are you doing here?"