“That even at this hour, if the matter were put about, his lordship might be brought to account for it, and it might fare very ill with him. The law of England deals heavily with an offense such as Lord Rotherby's, and the attempt at a mock-marriage, of which there is no lack of evidence, would so aggravate the crime of abduction, if he were informed against, that it might go very hard with him.”
Her jaw fell. She caught more than an admonition in his words. It almost seemed to her that he was threatening.
“Who—who is to inform?” she asked point-blank, her tone a challenge; and yet the odd change in it from its recent aggressiveness was almost ludicrous.
“Ah—who?” said Mr. Caryll, raising his eyes and fetching a sigh. “It would appear that a messenger from the Secretary of State—on another matter—was at the Adam and Eve at the time with two of his catchpolls, and he was a witness of the whole affair. Then again,” and he waved a hand doorwards, “servants are servants. I make no doubt they are listening, and your ladyship's voice has scarce been controlled. You can never say when a servant may cease to be a servant, and become an active enemy.”
“Damn the servants!” she swore, dismissing them from consideration. “Who is this messenger of the secretary's? Who is he?”
“He was named Green. 'Tis all I know.”
“And where may he be found?”
“I cannot say.”
She turned to Lord Ostermore. “Where is Rotherby?” she inquired. She was a thought breathless.
“I do not know,” said he, in a voice that signified how little he cared.