“Alice Lynn admitted him,” said Melissa, glibly enough now, her eyes narrow and pale; “and she is trying to guard the doors. You may see her for yourself, my lord,” and she fastened her eager gaze upon him.
She thought to see him take his sword and go in search of his enemy; she had whetted her appetite for revenge for her mistress’ scorn of her with the thought of a duel in Lady Clancarty’s rooms, and of Clancarty in blood at his wife’s feet, or driven out into the night—whipped! Ah, how she licked her lips at the thought; that would be the very acme of triumph, and the young countess had treated her with such contempt.
But Lord Spencer disappointed her.
“Send hither Giles,” he said sharply, and as she went out, reluctant to close the scene, she saw him pick up his hat and cloak.
Wild with eagerness and curiosity, she hung about the door; she heard some orders to Giles, the confidential servant, and she saw Spencer go out alone, and gasped in surprise and disappointment. Was he afraid?
And Giles looked askance at her as he passed.
“Where did he go?” she whispered eagerly.
“To the devil,” said the man sullenly, “you’re a pretty bird, you are,” and he measured her with rough scorn, even while he sat down by the main door with his pistol on his knee.
Melissa wetted her lips, creeping along by the wall opposite, watchful and feline.
“Are you to catch him here?” she demanded, meaning Lord Clancarty.