It was just as well she refused the tea, for there was no one to make it. She had hypnotised Belinda, and Belinda coming out of the hypnotic state was having hysterical convulsions in the kitchen, assisted by the charwoman.
"Belinda," cried Leavesley down the kitchen stairs, he had rung his bell vainly, "are you there?"
"She's hill, sir," replied a hoarse voice, "I'm a-lookin' arter her."
"Oh, well, if a Mr Verneede calls, will you ask him to wait for me? I'll be back soon."
"Yessir."
He left the house and proceeded as fast as omnibuses could take him to Southampton Row.
Bridgewater was out, but Mr Wolf, the second in command, ushered him into Hancock's room.
"Well," said Hancock, who was writing a letter—"Oh, it's you. Sit down, sit down for a minute."
He went on with his letter, and Leavesley took his seat and sat in a simmering state listening to the squeaking of the quill pen, and framing in his mind indictments against Bridgewater.
If he had been in a state of mind to absorb details he might have noticed that his uncle was looking younger and brighter. But the youthfulness or brightness of Mr Hancock were indifferent to him absorbed as he was with his own thoughts.