"It was the deed of a ganache who would risk his life for the sake of a nine days' notoriety," snarled the countess. "Read the two last lines again."
"The latest reports add that little or no hope seems to be entertained of the earl's recovery,'" repeated Slingsby, from the newspaper.
"Then it is quite possible that the earldom may be yours before you are many days older."
"Oh, Lady Loughton!"
"Why profess a regret which I cannot feel? I tell you candidly that I hope the man won't recover. You and I must start for Brimley by the next train. Meanwhile, you had better telegraph to Mr. Flicker to meet us there."
The countess and Mr. Boscombe reached Brimley Station next forenoon, where her ladyship's carriage was awaiting their arrival. Slingsby, never having met the earl but once, had a dread of being looked upon as an intruder at such a time, and would much rather have stayed away, but the countess altogether scouted his objections, and insisted upon taking him with her; and she was certainly too old to venture on such a journey alone.
Slingsby wished most heartily that the fire had never happened. So far as he was concerned, if the earl were to die matters would be brought to a climax far sooner than was convenient for him, and his secret marriage be a secret no longer.
The first thing the countess did, after reaching the hotel, was to seek a private interview with Doctor Ward.
"A lamentable affair this, doctor," she said, extending a couple of frigid fingers, and motioning him to a chair.
"Very lamentable, indeed, madam."