He returned in a minute or two, white, scared, and breathless. Pulling his moustache fiercely, he made a gallant effort to compose himself; but when he spoke, his voice was so changed, Tom looked with surprise in his face.
"You saw it too, Tom!" he said at last, in a hoarse whisper.
"Saw it!--saw what?" repeated Tom, with an admirable assumption of ignorance, innocence, and dismay.
"Saw Lady Bearwarden in that cab with Dick Stanmore!" answered his lordship, steadying himself bravely like a good ship in a breeze, and growing cooler and cooler, as was his nature in an emergency.
"Are you sure of it?--did you see her face? I fancied so myself, but thought I must be mistaken. It was Mr. Stanmore, no doubt, but it cannot possibly have been the viscountess."
Tom spoke with an air of gravity, reflection, and profound concern.
"I may settle with him, at any rate!" said Lord Bearwarden. "Tom, you're a true friend; I can trust you like myself. It's a comfort to have a friend, Tom, when a fellow's smashed up like this. I shall bear it well enough presently; but it's an awful facer, old boy. I'd have done anything for that woman--I tell you, anything! I'd have cut off my right hand to please her. And now!--It's not because she doesn't care for me--I've known that all along; but to think that she's like--like those poor painted devils we met just now. Like them!--she's a million times worse! O, it's hard to bear! Damnation! I won't bear it! Somebody will have to give an account for this!"
"You have my sympathy," said Tom, in a low respectful voice, for he knew his man thoroughly; "these things won't stand talking about; but you shall have my assistance too, in any and every way you require. I'm not a swell, my lord, but I'll stick by you through thick and thin."
The other pressed his arm. "We must do something at once," said he. "I will go up to barracks now: call for me there in an hour's time; I shall have decided on everything by then."
So Lord Bearwarden carried a sore heart back once more to the old familiar scenes--through the well-known gate, past the stalwart sentry, amongst all the sights and sounds of the profession by which he set such store. What a mockery it seemed!--how hard, how cruel, and how unjust!