“I may be of some use, though,” interrupted Holdsworth. “Never mind about my breakfast just yet. When did the man enter the house to take possession?”
“Last night, sir, the gal told the milkman.”
“Great heaven! And has she been alone all night?” He stopped short, seized his hat, and, brushing past Mrs. Parrot, went quickly out of the house.
Mrs. Parrot watched him from the porch, lost in amazement.
He pushed open the gate, marched up to the door, and knocked loudly. His mood was one of deep excitement. The sense of the crushing misery that had fallen upon Dolly had given a poignancy to feeling that set all self-control at defiance.
The door was opened by the servant, and out with her came a smell of strong tobacco smoke.
“Is Mr. Conway in?”
“No, sir, he ain’t,” answered the girl, looking behind her and then at Holdsworth, with a scared face.
“Where’s your mistress?”
“In the parlour, sir.”