"When did she go?" asked Bernard, who was the first to find his voice.
"Goodness knows," replied the lawyer in vexed tones. "She left early this morning without saying she was going. Miss Randolph heard the news at breakfast. One of the grooms stated that he had seen Mrs. Gilroy driving in a farmer's trap to the station at Postleigh, about seven o'clock."
"Perhaps she will come back."
"No! She has taken her box with her. She had only one, I believe. I daresay she has taken fright over what she let out to me the other day about that precious son of hers"—here Durham remembered that, so far as he knew, Alice was ignorant of Michael Gore's existence. She interpreted the look.
"You can speak freely, Mr. Durham," she said. "Bernard has just told me all about the matter."
"Good," said the solicitor, evidently relieved, as it did not necessitate his entering into a long explanation, of which he was rather impatient. "Then you know that Bernard and I suspect Michael Gore——"
"He has no right to that name," said Bernard, peremptorily.
"Well, then, Michael Gilroy, though for all we know his mother may not have a right to that name either. But to come to the point. This disappearance of the woman makes me more certain than ever that she alone can tell the story of that night."
"And she won't tell it if it incriminates her son," said Alice.
"No, that's certain. I made inquiries——"