A TEMPTING OFFER.
Naturally, under the pressure of Ida's imploring letter, Colonel Towton was not anxious to remain inactive in London. He wished to go to Bowderstyke himself and learn the exact truth. Maunders said one thing and Ida another, so if the two were confronted the absolute facts of the case would certainly come to light. Towton assuredly believed Ida rather than Maunders, but it seemed strange to him that Miss Hest should champion Constantine, and strange also that Maunders should wish him to come down to Gerby Hall, where, if Ida spoke correctly, his presence would not be welcome either to Miss Hest or her co-conspirator. And Maunders was far too clever a man to do anything without having some object in view. What that object might be Colonel Towton as yet could not fathom.
For this last reason, and because his rival so pointedly advised him to go to Gerby Hall, the Colonel remained in London. Whatever Maunders' plans might be, they would assuredly be thwarted by the absence of Towton, and, later, the Colonel determined to go, even before Vernon lured Diabella from her hiding-place. Meanwhile, as Maunders had stated that he was himself going to Gerby Hall on the invitation of Miss Hest, the Colonel sought the young man's rooms on Sunday afternoon in order to see if he had kept his promise, as he fancied that the proposed visit might be some trick. On inquiry, however, the Colonel learned that Constantine had departed on the previous day and had left notice with the caretaker of his chambers that he would not return until an entire week had elapsed. Evidently he had meant what he said, namely, to accept Miss Hest's hospitality.
This knowledge, however, only made Towton the more anxious to go also, as the idea that Maunders was having it all his own way and was subjecting Ida to persecution made him restless. He wished to ride forth like a knight of old to rescue his lady-love, who certainly, if her letter was to be believed, seemed to be in great peril. It said a great deal for Towton's disciplinarian instincts that he obeyed Vernon, as one more professionally clever at such cases, rather than his own desires. In the meantime, having satisfied himself with regard to Maunders' whereabouts, the Colonel took up his usual life for, at all events, a week. He relieved his mind by writing to Ida saying that he would come down to The Grange at the termination of that period.
Vernon had not thought fit to impart to Towton how he proposed to inveigle Diabella into the open for the very simple reason that he was puzzled himself how to act. Several times he had been to the Bond Street rooms, only to find that they were in the hands of decorators, rapidly transforming the weird Egyptian hall into a cosy English cottage. Mrs. Hiram G. Slowcomb was already advertising that "Granny!" would foretell the future after the fashion of the renowned Mother Shipton, and already had seen several of Diabella's old clients, desirous of novelty. To these she told wonderful things in a strong American accent, which did not suit the thrum cap or the tartan shawl or the general looks of an ancient rustic dame. However, she was succeeding very well, and there was no doubt that when her _mise-en-scene_ was prepared that she would become the fashion for a few months. She professed to know nothing of Diabella, and as she was quite frank in answering questions Vernon saw no reason why he should not believe a story which certainly appeared, on the face of it, to be true. The lawyer of the landlord still refused to say anything about Isabella Hopkins since Vernon declined to state why the knowledge was required. And, of course, as he was suspicious rather than certain he could say absolutely nothing.
In this dilemma, and wondering how he was to come face to face with the woman, Vernon decided, on the Sunday when Towton went to seek Maunders, to pay an afternoon call. This errand took him into the luxurious drawing-room of Lady Corsoon. By this time the month of grace allowed by The Spider was nearing its end, and Vernon, having accomplished nothing definite, considered it necessary to reassure the millionaire's wife. Naturally, he expected to find her haggard and hysterical, but was truly surprised to behold a perfectly composed person, comely and content. Her brown eyes sparkled when the footman announced the newcomer, and she swept forward--the word is necessary to exactly describe Lady Corsoon's imposing gait--to welcome him with ill-concealed eagerness.
"How are you, Mr. Vernon?" she asked in her best society manner, and then dropped her voice to a confidential whisper, "I should have called at your office to-morrow had you not come."
"I am quite well, thank you," replied Vernon, for the benefit of the surrounding guests, and lowered his voice likewise: "Any news, good or bad?"
"Yes; both. Wait till everyone goes," she said softly, and again spoke gracefully in her character of hostess. "You poor man, you really must have a cup of tea. Go to Lucy and ask nicely."
Vernon needed no second command, but thrust his way through a crowd of well-dressed people to find a bamboo table covered with tea-things, over which a pretty, fresh-coloured damsel presided. She received him with a shy blush, which made her look like a dewy rose. Lucy Corsoon could not be called lovely, nor would she have attracted attention in any marked degree. A bright, sweet English girl was all she claimed to be, and, having the bloom of youth, she really appeared more charming than she really was. In a very plain white frock and without a single ornament, she looked like a modest violet, almost hidden by its leaves. The ardent gaze in her lover's dark eyes made her blush more than ever as she handed him a cup of tea.