"Don't stand arguing there," said Owen in a voice whose fury made the young man wince. "We've had more than enough of you. Be so good as to take yourself off before I kick you out of the house."

Leonard Dowson gave one last look at the other man's face as though to see whether this threat was meant to be taken literally. What he read there apparently decided him; for with a hoa.r.s.e sigh he turned away in the direction of the front door.

Without waiting to see if he were obeyed or not, Owen hastened away to the telephone; and it was Herrick who opened the door and watched the young man enter the car.

A second later he dismounted again, this time bearing Toni's dressing-bag, which in her hurry she had left behind; and carrying it up the steps he put it down, almost tenderly, inside the hall.

"Thank you. That will do." Herrick watched him as he hesitated, uncertainly. "Don't let me detain you." He held the door widely open.

"Good-night."

Thus dismissed, the young man had no option. He went out into the chilly, misty night, and mounted the car, which moved swiftly away down the gloomy drive.

When Herrick had closed the door he paused a moment, wondering if he had not better follow the late visitor's example and vanish quietly into the night.

But he heard Owen's voice calling him as he stood hesitating, and found that, in spite of his wife's treachery, he himself was not debarred from giving help.

He attempted, awkwardly, to take his leave; but Owen was in no mood to let him go. Whatever Mrs. Herrick's part in the tragedy, it was evident that her husband was to be exonerated; and although his heart was sick within him at the thought of Eva's wickedness, Herrick was wise enough to see that to implicate himself would be to make matters worse than they were already.

But although the two men made all possible inquiries, they could hear nothing of the missing Toni. No one had seen her, no one heard of her; and as the hours wore on it seemed as though the mist had indeed swallowed her up so completely that all trace of her was lost.

After nearly an hour's futile telephoning Owen set off in the waiting car to scour the countryside; while at his urgent request Herrick stayed behind at Greenriver, in case Toni should arrive in her husband's absence and find no one to welcome her. Herrick agreed to stay at once, though he knew his prolonged absence would annoy and possibly upset his wife. She deserved no consideration, he told himself sternly. It was largely through her machinations that this thing had come to pa.s.s; and a few hours' anxiety would be a small enough price to pay for her treachery.

It was nearly four o'clock in the morning when Owen returned, tired out, despondent, and with no slightest sc.r.a.p of news. He came into the library looking ready to drop with fatigue, and found Herrick sitting over the fire apparently lost in thought. Olga and Jock, who had long since fraternized, lay side by side on the hearthrug; and all was quiet and peaceful. But when Herrick sprang up, hearing Owen's step, it was easy to see that for him, too, the night had worn away in keenest suspense.

"Well? Any news?"

"No. None." Owen slipped off his thick coat and sank down, wearily, into a chair. "No one has seen anything of her. The hotel people didn't hear her go, and no one has the faintest notion where she went."

He shivered, holding out his hands to the blaze.

"Herrick, where can she be? My G.o.d, I'd give ten years of my life now to know she was safe. But to think of her wandering about in the fog--not daring--not even wanting--to come home ... thinking always of me as the selfish brute who neglected her and laughed aside her wishes...."

He paused a moment, then began again.

"It wouldn't be so bad if she'd been in love with that fool who was here to-night. I could have understood her going off with him then. But it was me she loved all along--she was thinking of me when she went out into the cruel night to join him.... I'm very certain she shrank from the step ... well, events prove it, don't they? ... but she was thinking only of my good and so she nerved herself to do it...."

"Yes." Herrick spoke quietly. "There's no doubt, I think, that your wife loved you as very few men are loved. It seems--forgive me--a cruel jest of Fate that you couldn't return her love...."

"But I _did_--and _do_!" Owen's voice rang out with all its old force.

"Before G.o.d, man, I do love Toni ... oh, I didn't at first. I confess I married her without caring for her as a man should care for the woman he makes his wife. But I've grown fonder of her ever since. Oh, I know it's all true, what that fellow said--I've been thoughtless, unkind, I did neglect her, did let her see how I despised her help, but you don't know what it is to a man to find his work spoilt for the lack of a little intelligent sympathy.... Oh, I'm not excusing myself--I had no right to put my work before everything else--even before Toni--and I did. But G.o.d knows I'm punished for it now."

Again he broke off abruptly, only to go on again hastily.

"I own I was mistaken in my reading of Toni's character. I had no idea she was capable of this sort of sacrifice."

"You never saw into the depths of her soul. If you had----"

"I should have realized what she was. Oh, I know," said Owen, with humility, "I know now that Toni is a woman, and I pray to G.o.d with all my soul that my knowledge has not come too late."

"You think if you got her back now you might be happy together?"

"Happy? If I could make Toni happy, she would be happy indeed." His tone was still tinged with that new humility, and in that dreary hour Herrick began to understand him better than he had ever dreamed of doing.

When at last the grey dawn crept through the large windows Herrick rose to go.

"I'll get off home for an hour or two. You'd better try to have a sleep, Rose. We can't do anything more just yet; and it's no use wasting one's strength."

"Very well." Owen rose and stretched himself, yawning. "I won't go to bed--I'll sleep on the couch here. You see she might come at any moment."

Herrick saw it was of no use attempting to urge him to go to bed; so agreed, at once, that such a return was possible, and two minutes later he and Olga were outside the house in the chilly silver dawn.

The fog had lifted in the night, and for that Herrick was thankful; but the air was biting, and as he walked briskly along, Olga trotting alertly beside him, he owned to himself that a cup of hot coffee, followed by a sleep, would be welcome indeed.

He let himself softly into the house and proceeded to make some coffee with the aid of the gas-ring. He was gulping it down, feeling the liquid driving the cold out of his bones, when Olga growled faintly; and looking up, he saw his wife standing in the doorway surveying him maliciously.

"Well? Has the lost lamb been found and returned to the fold?" Her tone was mockery itself.

"No." For an instant he wondered whether he should accuse her of her treachery; but suddenly he resolved to wait till he was more normal, after a rest.

"Really? Well, I don't think she will return just yet. I expect the next time her loving husband meets our dear Toni, the Divorce Court will be their meeting-place."

A wave of anger swept over Herrick.

"So that man was right--it was your doing." He put down his cup and looked steadily at her. "It was through your--your advice that that unfortunate girl left her home and wont off with Dowson."

"It wasn't through my advice," she said. "As a matter of fact I didn't know they had fixed it up so quickly. Three days ago it was only a vague notion--quite in the air, I a.s.sure you. I had no idea it had actually come off."

"You knew, then, that it was a possibility, at least?"

"Yes." Suddenly she stopped and stared at him. "But how do you know? She didn't leave any message, I suppose?"

"I know because Mrs. Rose's heart failed her when she had taken the first step. She gave this man Dowson the slip at Stratton and he immediately returned to Greenriver to ask if she had come back."

"And she hadn't?"

"Of course not." He spoke sternly. "Between you, you have made it almost impossible for that poor child to return unless her husband fetches her.

Why you should have sought to ruin their homes I confess I fail to understand. Neither Rose nor his wife had done you any harm."

"No." She stared sombrely at him. "That's true, I suppose. But--oh, you can't understand, of course."

"Understand what, Eva?" He tried to speak gently, aware through all her mockery of something piteous, tragic in her att.i.tude.

"You can't understand how I hate to see happiness." She threw back her head and beneath her white wrapper he saw her breast heave stormily. "I was happy once, before those men sent me to prison. I used to sing and laugh--as Toni did--I used to enjoy every moment of my life ... and then I liked to see people all round me being happy too... But I was taken away from it all, from the sunshine, the gay, happy people, the shops, the theatres, taken away and shut up like a wild animal in a cell ... oh ..." She shivered, and all at once his heart melted towards her.

"Don't think of that now, dear." He put his hand with real kindness on her shoulder. "It's all over and done with, and there are better things in store."

"Not for me." Her tone was unutterably forlorn. "My life is spoilt, broken--and now"--all at once her expression changed and she spoke vindictively--"now all I can do is to break other lives!"