"Yes.—Go home at once."
He turned away, and she hurried from the spot with bowed head.
CHAPTER XXVI
"Oh, depend upon it," said Mrs. Tenterden, in her heavy, consequential way, "there's more behind than we shall ever know! 'Unsound mind,' indeed She was no more of unsound mind than I am!"
It was after church, and Mrs. Mumbray, alone this morning, had offered the heavy lady a place in her brougham. The whole congregation had but one topic as they streamed into the unconsecrated daylight. Never was such eagerness for the strains of the voluntary which allowed them to start up from attitudes of profound meditation, and look round for their acquaintances. Yesterday's paper—the Polterham Examiner unfortunately—reported the inquest, and people had to make the most of those meagre paragraphs—until the Mercury came out, when fuller and less considerate details might be hoped for. The whispering, the nodding, the screwing up of lips, the portentous frowning and the shaking of heads—no such excitement was on record!
"To me," remarked Mrs. Mumbray, with an air of great responsibility, "the mystery is too plain. I don't hint at the worst—it would be uncharitable—but the poor creature had undoubtedly made some discovery in that woman's house which drove her to despair."
Mrs. Tenterden gave a start.
"You really think so? That has occurred to me. Mrs. Wade's fainting when she gave her evidence—oh dear, oh dear! I'm afraid there can be only one explanation."
"That is our honourable member, my dear!" threw out Mrs. Mumbray. "These are Radical principles—in man and woman. Why, I am told that scarcely a day passed without Mrs. Wade calling at the house."