“We will do as you say, Peters,” said Lally wearily. “Only don’t speak to me now.”
She buried her face in the cushions, and was silent with a stillness like death.
Meanwhile Rufus Black sat for some minutes in a sort of stupor, but at last raised his haggard eyes and said to the shopkeeper:
“The—the lady who passed out, Benson, was my wife. I had heard she was dead. Can you give me her address?”
The shopman was all sympathy and kindness. He knew Rufus Black had come of a good family, and he suspected, from the scene he had just witnessed, that he had experienced trouble through his marriage. He picked up the mourning card Lally had laid down and read the address aloud.
“‘Miss Wroat, Mount street, Grosvenor Square,’” repeated Rufus. “My wife is governess in that family. Thanks, Benson. I will go to Mount street.”
He went out with staggering steps, hailed a hansom cab, gave the order, and was driven to the Wroat mansion in Mount street. The boy called Buttons waited upon the door in Toppen’s absence. He was a shrewd lad, and had received private instructions from Peters, who had just come in with her young mistress.
“I want to see Miss Bird,” said Rufus abruptly, making a movement to enter the hall.
The boy blocked his path.
“No such lady here, sir,” he replied.