He led her, without too much gentleness, through the station, put her in a hansom, and gave the driver the address of his home.
Then, with a laconic caution that she had better remain at home and keep quiet, he turned his back upon her and went in search of Deborah, whom he found just inside the doors, wearing a rather sad face.
“I wish that foolish girl of mine had a little of your sense,” said he, as he helped Deborah into a hansom and got in after her.
“She is the ideal faithful woman, though.”
“Yes, because she has no beauty.”
They drove on in silence to the lodgings in St. Martin’s-lane, where, in answer to their inquiries, they were told that Mr. Pennant still lived; then they were ushered into the little back room, which Deborah remembered, and, finding that Rees was not there, they said they would wait. Mr. Pennant’s hours were very uncertain, the old landlady, who opened the door herself, said; and as he scarcely ever had a meal at home, and always let himself in with a latch-key, she could give very little information about his movements. Both Mr. Pennant and Mr. Jocelyn, she mentioned, as if it was no uncommon occurrence, had slept out last night.
“Jocelyn!” repeated Lord Austell, turning to Deborah.
“It must be Sep, Mrs. Kemp’s nephew,” answered she.
“We will wait,” repeated he. “If you should meet either of them on their way in, don’t tell them any one is here. We want to surprise them.”
“Very well, sir,” said Mrs. Williamson. Then she continued, with a smile, “If Mr. Goodhare should call, sir, I suppose you would wish him told that his brother is inside?”