"I don't understand it," the secretary said to himself. "Has he got information that he keeps to himself? Has he got a deeper game on than I ever gave him credit for? What does it mean? Is he going off his head?"
More letters and more telegrams came. They were sent in to the inner office; but nothing came out of it.
That night Gabriel Cassilis left his chair at ten o'clock. He had eaten nothing all day. He was faint and weak; he took something at a City railway station, and drove home in a cab. His wife was out.
In the hall he saw her woman, the tall woman with the unprepossessing face.
"You are Mrs. Cassilis's maid?" he asked.
"I am, sir."
"Come with me."
He took her to his own study, and sat down. Now he had the woman with him he did not know what to ask her.
"You called me, sir," she said. "Do you want to know anything?"
"How long have you been with your mistress?"