With a bent head and a hurried low voice, she explained. "Dolly was very cruel to me at times. He even struck me, and I could not strike back at a little rat like that. I told Ned, who was furious, and wanted to frighten Dolly. I prevented him, so that there might be no scandal. Ned then gave me the key of his flat—he had an extra key—and told me if Dolly ever struck me again to come to him. I should not have thought of doing so, but to quieten Ned I consented to take the key."
"What an injudicious thing to do," breathed Prelice, alarmed; "if your husband knew, he might do a lot of damage. But how did Uncle Simon get the key out of you?"
"I told him about it the night of the ball. He got me into a quiet corner to remonstrate, so I explained everything. Mr. Haken was angry at Ned for having given me the key——"
"He was quite right," interposed Prelice. "Ned ought to have had more sense than to do such a mad thing. Go on."
"Mr. Haken insisted upon having the key, and then said that he would go down and see Ned."
Prelice turned suddenly pale. Was this what Horace had warned him against when he advised him to leave the case alone? "Did Uncle Simon go?" he asked in a stifled voice.
"I don't know. He certainly said that he would go down and give Ned back the key, and talk to him about his folly in letting me have it."
Prelice felt very uncomfortable, and his thoughts flew to his aunt with her merry ways. It would be terrible for Lady Sophia if Haken were involved in this dreadful case, and indeed if he were—as seemed apparent from Constance's story—Prelice wished that he had taken the doctor's advice, and had left it well alone. While he was puzzling over this new problem, and trying to find reasons against his uncle's complicity, he heard Constance cry out, and looked up, to see Rover standing in the doorway.
The little stockbroker, dressed to perfection, and overdressed at that, looked more dapper and neat than ever. His face was more colourless, his eyes more plaintive and blue, than they had been in the artificial light in which he had received his wife's guests. Such a mean-looking, bloodless man could scarcely get into a rage; yet a venomous look crept into his eyes as he surveyed his wife and her visitor.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, trying to assume the dignity of an injured husband, which sat very badly on him.