Thurston instantly saw the little white note lying among the books. He seized and read it quickly. His first expression of incredulous surprise faded away. His face became impassive.
"Will I serve dinner at eight, sir?"
"Certainly," answered Thurston, calmly crushing the note in his hand.
Lord Stafford looked at him inquiringly, as Jennings left the room.
"She has gone with Glen Masters to dine with her people—at the Cecil—and asks me to fetch her," said Thurston, slowly.
"Then it's all right." Lord Stafford felt, in a measure, relieved.
"It's not all right, by any means, Uncle Nelson," answered Thurston, in the same repressed voice. "My wife has gone against my express wishes."
"Ah, by George! Too bad!" exclaimed Lord Stafford, sympathetically. "You'll go and fetch her, of course?" Thurston failed to answer. An ash dropped loudly on the hearth.
"No," said Thurston, finally.
"Shall I go and fetch her?"