“Oh, well, shall see you again, I suppose, soon? Good-night, old chap. Must go and dress. Vivi dear, don’t be late.”
He goes out as he speaks, and closes the door behind him. Hector D’Estrange’s words are still next his heart.
“Poor Vivi,” he mutters to himself. “It is not her fault. Poor Vivi.”
He is hardly out of the room, when she looks up at Captain Kilmarnock. The scared expression is still in her face.
“Kil,” she whispers, “that was a near squeak. You had better be off, old man. Didn’t hear the front door bell ring, did you?”
“No,” he answers in a rather sulky tone. “Hang him! He’s always where he’s not wanted. But you are right. I’d better be off. To-morrow at three. Don’t forget.”
“All right,” she answers, with a smile.
CHAPTER III.
Always busy and astir, the little town of Melton Mowbray presents a more than usually busy aspect on the morning of the 15th April, 1894. It is early yet, nevertheless the streets ring with the sound of trotting and cantering hacks, as well as the more sober paces of the strings of horses returning from exercise to their respective stables.