“Perhaps,” she said; and as the butler was standing at the open door I was compelled to bow coldly and follow him out.
As he opened the front door I halted a moment and said, as though I had forgotten to make inquiry of his mistress:—
“Miss Ella is staying here—is she not?”
“Yes, sir,” was the man’s prompt reply. “She came up from the country yesterday.”
I thanked the man, descended the steps, and walked along Porchester Terrace wondering how best to act. Of love there is very little in the world, but many things take its likeness.
I must see my love at all costs. She had continued to postpone her marriage so as to allow me time to unmask her enemy and free her from the peril which threatened.
Gordon-Wright was abroad. Therefore a secret meeting with Ella was all the easier. Yes, I would keep watch upon that house, as I had done in the days long ago, and see if I could not meet her and make an appointment. To write to her would be unwise. It was best that I should see her and reassure her.
Therefore through all the remainder of the afternoon I waited about in the vicinity, but in vain. Even if she went out to dine, or to the theatre, she certainly would return to her aunt’s to dress, and, sure enough, just before seven, she came along in a hansom in the direction of the Park.
I was about to raise my hat as my dear one passed, when I suddenly discovered that she was not alone. By her side, elegant in silk hat and frock-coat, sat the clean-shaven man who held her enthralled.
He was therefore not abroad, as the snappy old woman had said.