“‘Did it never occur to you, madam, that other people have darlings whom they love?’ I exclaimed, unable to control my anger. ‘But there, tell me, what steps have you taken to find out where she went?’
“‘Steps! I take steps? Absurd! My good man, you must be mad.’
“‘I shall be soon,’ I muttered, then aloud—
“‘But you have done something, madam, surely?’
“‘I desired Mr Saint Ray to write to you, and of course you are the proper person to take steps, as you term it,’ said the lady contemptuously.
“‘Tell me when she left and how. Give me some information, I beg of you,’ I exclaimed.
“‘My good man, I cannot touch the subject at all. It is too painful—too dreadful. See Mr Saint Ray. When I think of having harboured so dreadfully shameless a creature, I feel faint—it turns me sick.’
“I dared not speak—I dared not give utterance to the rage still struggling in my breast, for this was only a woman, and such a woman, that I dashed out of the room, and the door banged heavily behind me.
“As I left the room I nearly fell over the footman, who had evidently been listening, and I caught a glimpse of two female heads disappearing at a doorway as I hurried down the stairs.
“‘Here, my man,’ I said, ‘tell me all you know,’ and I thrust my hand once more into my meagrely filled pocket.