They went out, intending to hail the first cab. Very much to Lord Hartledon's surprise he saw his wife's carriage waiting at the door, the impatient horses chafing at their delay. What could have detained her? "Wait for me one moment, Carr," he said. "Stop a cab if you see one."
He dashed up to the drawing-room; his wife was coming forth then, her cloak and gloves on, her fan in her hand. "Maude, my darling," he exclaimed, "what has kept you? Surely you have not waited for me?—you did not misunderstand me?"
"I hardly know what has kept me," she evasively answered. "It is late, but I'm going now."
It never occurred to Lord Hartledon that she had been watching or listening. Incapable of any meanness of the sort, he could not suspect it in another. Lady Hartledon's fertile brain had been suggesting a solution of this mystery. It was rather curious, perhaps, that her suspicions should take the same bent that her husband's did at first—that of instituting law proceedings by Dr. Ashton.
She said nothing. Her husband led her out, placed her in the carriage, and saw it drive away. Then he and the barrister got into a cab and went to the Temple.
"We'll take the books home with us, Carr," he said, feverishly. "You often have fellows dropping in to your chambers at night; at my house we shall be secure from interruption."
It was midnight when Lady Hartledon returned home. She asked after her husband, and heard that he was in the breakfast-room with Mr. Carr.
She went towards it with a stealthy step, and opened the door very softly. Had Lord Hartledon not been talking, they might, however, have heard her. The table was strewed with thick musty folios; but they appeared to be done with, and Mr. Carr was leaning back in his chair with folded arms.
"I have had nothing but worry all my life," Val was saying; "but compared with this, whatever has gone before was as nothing. When I think of Maude, I feel as if I should go mad."
"You must quietly separate from her," said Mr. Carr.