“No, sir. No one’s been ’ere to-day, except a foreign-looking gentleman who asked if madame had left, and when I said that she had, he went away quite satisfied.”
“What kind of man was he?”
“Tall and thin, with a longish dark beard.”
The description did not correspond with anyone of my acquaintance; therefore, after some further questions regarding Mrs Laing’s mysterious departure, I was compelled to wish the worthy woman good evening. She knew nothing of Mrs Laing’s movements, not even the name of the terminus to which she had driven, such pains had Ella’s mother taken to conceal the direction in which she intended to travel.
Some secret undoubtedly existed between mother and daughter; its nature held me perplexed and bewildered.
Chapter Twenty Four.
Strictly Confidential.
The early morning was dry, frosty, but starless. The clock of that fashionable temple of Hymen, St George’s, Hanover Square, was slowly chiming three as I alighted from a cab at the corner of Mount Street, and walking along Berkeley Square, ascended the steps of the Earl of Warnham’s great mansion, and rang its ponderous bell. The place was severe and gloomy enough by day, but in the silence and darkness of the night its exterior presented a forbidding, almost ghostly appearance. It was an unusual hour for a call, but, knowing that a porter was on duty always, and that dispatches frequently arrived during the night, I had no hesitation in seeking an interview.