It was at this moment that a message was brought out of the house from Mrs. Ward saying that her daughter could drive home as she would not be disengaged for another hour. Dorothy looked puzzled. "I can't understand," she said; "there is something wrong with my mother. Lord Derrington came to see her one day and she has been upset ever since."
George shook his head. He suspected Mrs. Ward of knowing more than she chose to confess, and based his suspicions on the fact of the yellow holly which she had given to Dorothy to present to him. She had made her daughter a cat's-paw, but why she should wish to startle Mrs. Jersey with a reminder of the San Remo murder was a thing George could not understand. Meanwhile, he kept these suspicions to himself and made some excuse. "Oh, Mrs. Ward and my grandfather are probably talking over my iniquities," he said easily. "But I don't see why I should not take advantage of this chance."
"What do you mean, George?" asked Dorothy with a becoming blush.
"Well, here is the brougham, and here you are. Why shouldn't we drive around the Park before you go home?"
"My mother will be angry," said Dorothy, hesitating. Then she blushed again. "But I shall brave her anger. We have much to talk about, as I wish to speak of Lola Velez."
"Dorothy, you surely do not think----"
"No, no! But I want to ask you a few questions. I believe she is mad, George. Get in and we will drive round the Park."
The order was given, George seated himself beside his divinity, and they drove away for a pleasant hour. "You see Fate plays into our hands," said George, taking those of Dorothy in his own. And then the conversation became quite private and very, very confidential.
Meantime, Mrs. Ward was seated in a chair facing Lord Derrington. The old gentleman looked savage, but Mrs. Ward was quite at her ease. They had been having a war of words, and Mrs. Ward so far had come off best. The conversation had been in reference to the sentence whispered in the little woman's ear when he had made her promise to hold her tongue about George.
"Of course I do think it is the meanest thing a man can do," said Mrs. Ward, bitterly. "What if I did cheat at cards? Every woman does that, and I was losing no end of money."