“The day after to-morrow.”
“I must send a wreath. How sad it is! How very sad!” And he sighed sympathetically, and sat staring with fixed eyes at the dark green wall opposite.
“It’s time you caught your train,” I remarked, glancing at the clock.
“No,” he answered. “I’m dining at the House of Commons to-night with my friend Houston. I shall remain in town all night. I so very seldom allow myself any dissipation,” and he smiled rather sadly.
Truly he led an anchorite’s life, going to and fro with clockwork regularity, and denying himself all those diversions in Society which are ever at the command of a notable man. Very rarely did he accept an invitation to dine, and the fact that he lived down at Hove was in order to have a good excuse to evade people. He was a great man, with all a great man’s little eccentricities.
The two following days passed uneventfully. Each evening, about ten, Ambler Jevons came in to smoke and drink. He stayed an hour, apparently nervous, tired, and fidgety in a manner quite unusual; but to my inquiries regarding the success of his investigations he remained dumb.
“Have you discovered anything?” I asked, eagerly, on the occasion of his second visit.
He hesitated, at length answering——
“Yes—and no. I must see Ethelwynn without delay. Telegraph and ask her to meet you here. I want to ask her a question.”
“Do you still suspect her?”