"Then, where is she? You think I'm lying when I tell you that I came here by appointment; but I tell you that she fixed the hour herself. If you don't believe me, here's her note."

He held out a crumpled piece of paper. Caroline put it on one side, but she could not help seeing the writing, and she knew it only too well.

"If Mrs. Lancing has told you to come here to meet her, then I can say no more."

She moved away to the door, and once again he stood on one side and let her pa.s.s.

At that moment they heard the sound of a cab approaching in the street; it pulled up; a moment later the bell rang.

Some colour flickered into Caroline's face. She put out her hand and rested it against the door, and with that support she pa.s.sed on to the landing, holding her breath to catch the first sound of the pretty voice she knew so well.

"Will she be angry with me? How will she look? What will she say?"

Thought chased thought through her brain wildly. The door was opened, but no one entered. There was a buzzing in her ears; she could not catch what pa.s.sed. But as she stood there, trembling now in every limb, the cook ran up the stairs with a letter.

"For Sir Samuel, miss," she said.

Broxbourne was just behind, and he s.n.a.t.c.hed the letter out of the woman's hand.

"Won't you come down, miss?" said the servant, in a hurried way. "Do come. I've made some tea for you."

But Caroline looked backwards at that moment. She had caught the sound of a muttered exclamation. She hardly knew what prompted her to send the woman away, but she did so, and she turned and went back into the drawing-room, shutting the door behind her.

Broxbourne was standing biting his moustache. His red face had turned white. He looked ugly and alarming.

"You have news from Mrs. Lancing?" Caroline said.

He looked at her, but made no answer.

The tension of her nerves gave. Caroline groped her way to a chair, sat down, and hid her face in her hands for an instant; then she looked up.

"I _entreat_ you to tell me what has happened," she said brokenly. "I care for her so much. I came here because I care so much ... because I thought I could help her." Her voice was husky. "I only heard from her late last night, but I had to come, and I prayed I might not be too late. Where is----"

Broxbourne looked at her as her words died away.

"Take my word for it, she isn't worth fretting over. She can take care of herself."

There was an indescribable amount of bitterness in his voice. Something about Caroline's look had checked his rage.

"She's all right," he said roughly.

"Yes, but where is she?"

Sir Samuel laughed, and then he scowled.

"You say you heard from her, so I suppose you know all there is to know."

Caroline brushed back her hair from her tired aching brow.

"I know only this much--that she contemplated something rash and foolish.... She told me nothing, but I fancied I should find her here.

That was why I came.... I wanted so much to be with her."

"You mean you've just come up from Yelverton; but how did you manage that?"

She told him, and he frowned almost unbelievingly; then he said, in that surly, bitter way--

"Well, I tell you she isn't worth it. She wouldn't care if you broke yourself up into little bits to help her. She----" There was a hard, ugly word on his lips. He stifled it, but not easily; then he said, "Mrs. Lancing is married. In this note she informs me she was married yesterday morning early to Cuthbert Baynhurst."

Caroline cried out sharply.

"It isn't true!... Oh, it isn't true!"

"I think you'll find it is," said Broxbourne shortly.

He avoided looking at Caroline. He was not over sensitive, but something about this girl made him uncomfortable.

"And if you want to know why she has done this, I am the person to tell you. She wanted to show me that she's a bit cleverer than I took her to be, and, by G.o.d! she's about done it! She's tricked me fairly; but if she thinks it ends at this she'll live to know her mistake. No one scores off me more than once in their life."

His bl.u.s.tering return to anger made no effect on the girl sitting rigidly in the chair.

"It can't be true," she was saying to herself wildly, over and over again. "It can't be true!"

A timid knock sounded at the door. It was the cook with a cup of tea.

Sir Samuel took the tea and sent the woman away. She went unwillingly.

"I advise you to drink this," he said, advancing awkwardly enough.

But Caroline refused the tea, whilst thanking him.

"Why should you care so much?" asked Broxbourne; in that sullen way.

"She's tricked you as well as me, and everybody else. I tell you, you don't know her. She's the sort of woman who looks like an angel, and has no more heart or conscience than--than my boot has. She's clever, though; I'll give her that much. By Gad! to think she should have had me like this! But if she thinks she's settled with me, she's a lot out.

I wish her joy of Mr. Baynhurst. They're a good match. After sponging all he knew on the other chap, he walks off with the woman and the money. Well, I'll take pretty good care the beautiful Camilla don't show her face here again very soon. She may trick me; but she isn't out of the wood, for all that." He was getting excited now. "If I've held my tongue all this while, there's nothing to prevent my speakin'

now.... And I think it's on the cards that our dear friends may have their honeymoon excursion brought to an end a little sooner than they expect. Forgery is a nasty offence, Miss Graniger.... It means seven years."

Caroline looked at him with strained, incredulous, and miserable eyes.

"What do you mean?" she whispered.

"I mean that your dear friend Camilla is nothing better than a common thief; that she robbed me of four hundred pounds a year and a half ago."

Caroline's lips turned white.

"I will not believe you," she said; but the man hardly heard her.

He was wound up; the whole venom of his wrath was let loose. Stamping to and fro, he laid bare the history of the last few weeks; coa.r.s.ely, brutally he told the truth, ending with the part that had brought him to the house this morning.

Caroline's very soul went out in an agony of pity for the woman who had been tortured by this man. If only she had known! If only Camilla had turned for help to her!

Once started, Broxbourne seemed to have no end to his vituperation.