“I tell you she must go, must be sent away. Use any argument you like, tell her it would kill him to break the news of her coming too suddenly. That is true, I believe. In the meantime say I undertake to answer her letters if she will write—but it must be to me, not to him. And—and what I shall do is to get my lawyers to see her, to arrange with her—until we know something, find out something.”
Edgar, however, still lingered.
“I can never say all that,” grumbled he. “Besides, she wouldn’t listen. You know she wouldn’t.”
Remembering what he did of Audrey, poor Lord Clanfield thought this very likely, and his agitation grew stronger and stronger until it found a climax when, perceiving that the window nearest to him had become slightly darkened, he turned, and saw Audrey herself, very white, very quiet, peering in.
“Good Heavens, Madame, you have no right——” began the startled gentleman.
But Audrey leaned with her arms upon the window-ledge, and putting her head forward into the room, said in a low-pitched but determined voice:—
“You must see me. I insist. You must let me in.”
And, helpless in these strong if slight fingers, Lord Clanfield gave way. Motioning to his son to open the French window at the other end of the room, he leaned against the old carved white marble mantelpiece and prepared for the worst.
CHAPTER XII
Audrey came in trembling, and stood facing Lord Clanfield without a word. She had contrived to give the slip to the not over-vigilant Geoffrey, and had flown like the wind across the flower-garden, peering into the rooms on the ground-floor, in the hope of discovering either Gerard or his uncle.