“Yesterday, but I have no idea where he is at present.”
“Cannot you tell me if he is going abroad?” she persisted.
“No, my lady. I have no information at all. It is not Mr. Gaunt’s custom to tell me of his movements, unless he thinks it necessary for me to know,” Mr. Foster answered with a smile.
They returned straight to Park Lane, for that was the most likely place at which they would receive news, but when evening came Lady Mildred was convinced that her suspicions were correct, and she grew utterly despondent. It was revealed to her how great was her love for her husband now that she believed that he had gone deliberately into danger. All the dreadful things that she had heard of West Africa came rushing to her mind, and she grew desperate when she realized that he had left her with anger in his heart. And she broke down completely, sobbing piteously; in vain Lady Ethel strove to comfort her.
“I love him—oh, so much—and it is my fault that we quarreled. I should have known that he would not do so dreadful a thing as that wicked barrister charged him with. What shall I do? I must see him,” Lady Mildred cried passionately.
“Perhaps he has only gone into the country for a rest,” her sister suggested. “I don’t think that he could have left for the Congo without saying a word.”
“You don’t understand John. It was my lack of trust, and that cruel, cruel letter that hurt him. What a fool I have been.”
The morning came, bringing no news, and they wandered listlessly about the house. Suddenly Lady Ethel gave a cry, and almost fiercely clutched her sister’s arm.
“Did you not say that they intended to stop at the Canary Islands? To-day is Saturday, and the Union-Castle Liner sails. Let us go to Waterloo and see if John or one of the Drakes is there,” she cried impetuously.
The car was ordered at once, and upon arriving at the station they found the boat train drawn up, and by the bustle around it was evidently soon to start. They walked eagerly along closely examining each carriage, but saw no signs of either of them.