"The Captain and Miss Drummond are in the drawing-room, ma'am," said the maid.
"Then you can bring tea."
Mrs. Rooke opened the drawing-room door leisurely, turning the handle once or twice before she did so. She was excited at the thought of the things that might be happening the other side of the door. Supposing that Nelly had discovered that life with a poor foot-captain was a more desirable thing than life with a well-endowed baronet, a coming man in the political world to boot! Supposing—there was no end to the suppositions that passed through Mrs. Rooke's busy brain in a few seconds of time. Then—she entered the room and found emptiness.
"You are sure that neither the Captain nor Miss Drummond left a message?" she said to the maid who brought the tea.
"Quite sure, ma'am. I had no idea they were gone."
"Do you suppose they went away together, Jane?"
Mrs. Rooke was ready to accept a crumb of possible comfort from her handmaid.
"I do remember now, ma'am, that when I was pulling down the blind upstairs I heard the hall-door shut twice. I never thought of looking in the drawing-room, ma'am. I made sure that the noise of the blinds had deceived me into taking next-door for ours."
"Ah, thank you, Jane, that will do."
The omens were not at all propitious. Mrs. Rooke was fain to acknowledge as much to herself dejectedly. Nor did Cyprian think them propitious when taken into counsel. When she went downstairs, she found that her brother had come in. He was to spend the last evening at his sister's house.