"Yes, ma'am," said the servant.
"Whistle for a hansom for me, please, Susan."
Susan did so; and half an hour afterward Hilda was making inquiries at Rivers' chambers with regard to his whereabouts. The clerks there could give her no definite information. Mr. Rivers had gone out with a little lady soon after twelve o'clock, and had told them not to expect him back that day.
"I shall find Judy at Philippa Terrace when I go home," thought Mrs. Quentyns. "It was thoughtless of her not to tell me how long she would be out—it was wonderfully unlike her. Still, of course, she will be at home now."
But when Hilda returned no Judy was there to greet her; but her husband's face was seen looking somewhat impatiently out at the drawing-room window. He came at once to help his wife out of the cab, and entered the house with her.
"Where were you?" he asked. "It is nearly time for dinner."
"I won't be a moment getting dressed, Jasper; but—but—I am anxious about Judy."
Quentyns had meant to be specially nice and kind to Hilda after his evening's pleasure, but he felt it impossible now to keep the glib, sarcastic words back.
"I might have known when I saw that fretful look on your face, that Judy was the cause. Now, what is her latest transgression?"
"Oh, there is a telegraph-boy," said Hilda eagerly. "What—what—oh, is there anything wrong?"