"Mr. Charles Cleveland came back again, sir. Not directly; half-an-hour or three-quarters later it may have been, perhaps more, I had not taken particular note of the time. I was in the hall then, watching John clean the lamp—he has done it slovenly of late. The front-door was rung and knocked at as if it was going to be knocked down. I opened it, and Mr. Charles Cleveland rushed past me up to the drawing-room. I never hardly saw anybody in a greater hurry than he seemed to be. He came down again directly, my lady with him, and they went into the breakfast-room. He then ran out to the cab, and drove away at a fiercer rate than before."
"Was it the same cab?"
"Oh yes, sir. Taking both times together, he was not in the house three minutes."
"Not long enough to——" Mr. Grubb checked himself, and remained silent.
"Not long enough to have drawn a false cheque, sir, when the handwriting has to be studied—as we have been saying below," put in the butler, following too closely his master's thoughts.
Mr. Grubb felt disagreeably startled. "Hilson! what are you saying? Who has talked of this below?"
"Only Darvy, sir. She got to know of it this morning, through—— Well, sir, I believe through a letter that my lady gave her to read."
"But how was that?" questioned Mr. Grubb, in a displeased tone.
"It was through a mistake of my lady's, sir," replied Alison, dropping his voice. "She had meant to give Darvy a note from Madame Damereau, about the trimming of a dress; instead of that, she gave her one from Lady Grace. Darvy has been uneasy ever since, and she spoke in confidence to me."
"Why uneasy?"