"Miss Ingestre has left, then?"
"Already—some months."
Captain Arnold rose abruptly. It was evident that his mission was at an end.
"In that case I do not need to trouble you further," he said. "I came on a mere supposition. Had I not travelled so quickly I should no doubt have heard from Miss Ingestre herself, but I have been on the road night and day, missing, apparently, every mail, and getting a good start on my own letters. I shall now have to hurry on to England as fast as possible."
"If you wish to meet Frau von Arnim your journey will be in vain," Hildegarde said. "She is at present in Berlin."
Arnold turned, and for the first time looked steadily at the speaker. It was evident that the words had had no meaning for him, but there was a curious, apparently causeless animosity and distrust in her steady eyes which arrested his attention and aroused in him emotions of a like nature. It was as though unconsciously they had hated each other before all time, and that the hatred had now become a definite recognisable quality.
"You spoke of Frau von Arnim," he said. "I am afraid I do not quite understand."
Hildegarde shrugged her shoulders. The movement was slightly insolent and utterly at variance with her usual gentle courtesy, but, like all nervous invalids, she could be goaded beyond all self-control, and something in this man's manner jarred on her as presumptuous, overbearing, suggesting an impertinent familiarity with the woman who was Wolff's wife.
"I think you must undoubtedly have missed your letters," she said; "otherwise you would know that Miss Ingestre ceased to exist many months ago."
The next minute she regretted her own clumsiness. The man's whole bearing and expression had changed. His face was livid; it was obvious that he had a hard task to control an extraordinary agitation.