The irritation of this unpleasant interview soon subsided, but Mr. Longcluse's anxiety rather increased.
Next day early in the afternoon he drove to Lady May's and she received him just as usual. He learned from her, without appearing to seek the information, that Alice Arden was still at Mortlake. His visit was one of but two or three minutes. He jumped into a hansom and drove out to Mortlake. He knocked. Man of the world as he was, his heart beat faster.
“Is Miss Arden at home?”
“No, Sir.”
“Not at home?”
“Miss Arden is gone out, Sir.”
“Oh! perhaps in the garden?”
“No, Sir; she has gone out, and won't be back for some time.”
The man spoke with the promptitude and decision of a servant instructed to deny his mistress to the visitor. He had not a card; he would call again another day.
He heard the piano faintly, and, he thought, Alice's voice also; and certainly he saw Vivian Darnley in the drawing-room window, as his cab turned away from the door. With a swelling heart he drove into town. The portcullis, then, had fallen; access was denied him; and he should see her no more!