“No, I’ve been in Scotland,” I repeated. “Did you read the telegram she received?”
“Yes; it was very brief, but to the point. Mabel was annoyed that you had not told her the reason you had gone abroad without explanation. She feared that, in view of your preoccupied manner of late, something disastrous had happened to you. That’s why she left so hurriedly. I wanted to go with her, but she wouldn’t allow me.”
“I wish you had gone, Gwen,” I said. “There’s some plot here—some deep and treacherous conspiracy.”
“Why, what has happened?”
“A lot has happened,” I said. “You shall know it all later on. At present I haven’t time to explain. I suppose the telegram isn’t left about anywhere?”
“Mabel took it with her.”
“You didn’t notice whence it had been despatched?” I asked.
“From Turin. We concluded that you had halted there, on your way from Paris.”
I was silent. What plot had those blackguards formed against me and mine! Why had my dear wife Mabel been decoyed out to Italy by them? I grew apprehensive and furious.
My sister-in-law descended with me to the dining-room. She saw my agitation, and after the first surprise had worn off tried to calm me.