On leaving the Glazzards, Quarrier pursued the important business that had brought him into this part of London. He drove to a hospital, newly opened, with which he was connected in the capacity of treasurer. Talk with the secretary occupied him for half an hour; about to set forth again, he encountered on the staircase two ladies, the one a hospital nurse, the other Mrs. Wade.
"Could you grant me five minutes?" asked the widow, earnestly. "I didn't hope to see you here, and must have called upon you—but you are so busy."
There was a humility in her suppressed voice which, had the speaker been another person, would have prepared Denzil for some mendicant petition of the politer kind. She spoke hurriedly, as if fearing a rebuff.
"Let us step this way," he said, opening a door which led into an unoccupied room.
Mrs. Wade was dressed rather more simply than had been her wont when she lived at Polterham. One conjectured that her circumstances were not improved. She looked tired, harassed; her eyes wanted something of their former brightness, and she had the appearance of a much older woman.
There were no seats in the room. Quarrier did not refer to the fact, but stood in an attitude of friendly attention.
"I saw Northway yesterday," Mrs. Wade began.
The listener's face expressed annoyance.
"Need we speak of him?" he said, briefly.
"I am obliged to. He told me something which I had long suspected—something you certainly must learn."