“Oh, Ned has told me. Ned has told!” His face was terrible.
“And don’t you believe him? Don’t you believe me?” She was more plaintive than ever. It was almost as if she called heaven to witness what manner of husband she was forced to endure. “Then you had better call Mullins and ask him. He saw Dick leave.”
“And no doubt,” said Miss Armytage mercilessly, “Sir Terence will believe his butler where he can believe neither his wife nor his friend.”
He looked at her in a sort of amazement. “Do you believe them, Sylvia?” he cried.
“I hope I am not a fool,” said she impatiently.
“Meaning—” he began, but broke off. “How long do you say it is since Dick left the house?”
“Ten minutes at most,” replied her ladyship.
He turned and pulled the door open again. “Mullins?” he called. “Mullins!”
“What a man to live with!” sighed her ladyship, appealing to Miss Armytage. “What a man!” And she applied a vinaigrette delicately to her nostrils.
Tremayne smiled, and sauntered to the window. And then at last came Mullins.