The mist was extending to the land very rapidly; my lady shut down the window in haste and descended the stairs. The drawing-room windows were open, and she rang the bell for them to be closed. In those few moments the mist had increased so greatly that she could not see halfway across the garden. It was almost like an instantaneous cloud of blight.
"Mr. Thornycroft has left the dining-room," she observed to Hyde, as he was shutting the windows. "Have the people gone?"
"No, my lady. I have just taken in the pipes and spirits."
"Pipes and spirits! Do they smoke at these impromptu dinner gatherings--and drink spirits?"
"Generally," answered Hyde.
"But Mr. Thornycroft is not with them? I saw him out of doors."
Hyde, his windows and shutters closed, turned round to face her, and spoke with emphasis.
"The justice is in the dining-room, my lady. He does not quit it when he has friends with him."
Believing the man told her a lie, for her own sight was perfectly reliable sight--at least it had been so hitherto--she determined to satisfy herself. Waiting until he had gone, she crossed the hall, opened the dining-room door an inch and peeped in. Hyde was right. There sat Mr. Thornycroft in his place at the foot of the table, almost close to her, in the same dress he had worn at dinner, a long churchwarden's pipe in his mouth, and a steaming glass of something hot before him.