After arriving at this decision I determined to at once seek out Mannering, and demand from him some explanation of his conduct, for I could not conceive that Evie's story was entirely the outcome of her imagination. It was a delicate subject to discuss, yet I did not hesitate. I was in no humour to mince matters. My anger, though I had kept it well under control hitherto, only needed the slightest fanning to bring it to a white heat, and I longed whole-heartedly that Mannering would afford me some excuse for giving physical expression to my feelings.
I walked up to his front door, and knocked in a manner to denote with sufficient distinctiveness that the mood of the knocker was the imperative. I could see by the lights within that the inmates of the house had not retired to rest, but I had to repeat my summons before there was any response. Then I heard footsteps within, and the door opening an inch or two, a voice inquired who was there.
"Is Mr. Mannering in?" I demanded.
"Mr. Sutgrove, is it?" replied the voice, and upon my answering in the affirmative, the door was thrown open, and I saw the two maidservants standing in the hall.
"I beg your pardon, sir," said the parlourmaid. "We didn't expect any one at this time of night."
"That's all right," I answered. "Can I see Mr. Mannering?"
"He's gone away for a day or two, sir," said the girl.
"That's very sudden, isn't it?" I asked. "I saw him this afternoon."
"Yes, sir. He said nothing about it to us until after dinner. Then he packed his handbag and went away on his motor."
"It's a confounded nuisance," I remarked. "I wanted to see him on important business. Did he say where he was going?"