"No——you need not mention that I came. I shall tell him myself this evening."
As she walked down the High Street, she reflected on Mr. Gibbs's unwonted rudeness of look and manner.
"He is told to watch me; to drive me away if possible; to prevent me making any discoveries. I daresay they are all in a league together. I am the poor dupe of a wife—the stranger who knows nothing, and is to know nothing. We shall see; we shall see. I wonder where Ancram can have gone! That boy spoke of seeing him near Maxfield's house."
At that moment she found herself close to it, and with a sudden impulse she entered the shop, and, walking up to a man who stood behind the counter, said, "Is Mr. Errington here?"
The man was James Maxfield, and he answered sulkily, "I don't know whether he's gone or not. You'd better inquire at the private door."
Castalia's heart gave a great throb. "He has been here, then?" she said.
"You'd better inquire at the private door," was all James's response, delivered still more surlily than before.
Castalia left the shop, and knocked at the door indicated to her by James's thumb jerked over his shoulder. "Is Mr. Errington gone?" she asked of the girl who opened the door.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Did he—did he stay long?"