"C. D. P."
The contents of the letter frightened me. What mischief had I not caused by that incautious revelation to Mrs. Penn! Mrs. Penn the treacherous—as she undoubtedly was. "Take immediate steps to have him apprehended." Who was he? what had he done? and how did it concern Mr. Edwin Barley? Surely I ought to acquaint Mr. Chandos, and show him the note without loss of time.
The tea waited on the table, when Hickens came in with a message sent down from the west wing—that Mr. Chandos and Madame de Mellissie were taking tea there. I put out a cup, and sent the things away again, debating whether I might venture on the unheard-of proceeding of sending to the west wing for Mr. Chandos.
Yes. It was a matter of necessity, and I ought to do it. I sought for Hill. Hill was in the west wing, waiting on the tea party. Should I send Hickens to knock at the west wing door, or go myself? Better go myself, instinct told me.
I ran lightly up the stairs. Peeping out at the east wing door, listening and prying, was the head of Mrs. Penn.
"They have quite a soirée in the west wing to-night," she said to me, as I passed; "family gathering: all of them at it, save Sir Thomas. Whither are you off to so fast?"
"I have a message for the west wing," I answered, as I brushed on, and knocked at the door.
Hill came to unfasten the door. She turned desperately savage when she saw me.
"I am not come to intrude, Hill. Mr. Chandos is here, is he not?"
"What's that to anybody?" retorted Hill.