She turned in a fright, and saw Colonel Carlyle just behind her, his features distorted by rage and passion. He caught her arm violently and tore the note from her grasp.
"I will myself deliver this note to your mistress," he said, "and as for you, girl, go!"
He dragged her along the hallway to the open door, and pushed her out violently into the street, bareheaded and with no wrapping to protect her frail, womanly form from the rigors of the wintry night.
"Go, creature!" he thundered after her, "go, false minion of a false woman, and never darken these doors again with your hated presence!"
Lucy sank down upon the wet and sleety pavement with a moan of pain, and Colonel Carlyle closed and locked the door upon her defenseless form.
Rage had transformed the courteous old man into something more fiend-like than human.
As soon as he had disposed of his wife's attendant so summarily he turned his attention to the note he had wrested from her reluctant grasp.
Retiring into a deserted ante-room he opened and read it as coolly as if it had been addressed to himself.
What he read caused the veins to start out upon his forehead like great twisted cords, and his lips to writhe, while his face grew purple, and his eyes almost started from their sockets.