Strangeways, meanwhile, seemed to be looking for the alb.u.m of which she had spoken, moving hither and thither, with a frequent pause as of one who listens, or a glance towards the door.

'You won't be long?' said Alma, turning abruptly to her.

'It's my silly nervousness, dear. I thought I remembered perfectly where the alb.u.m lay. How foolish of me! I quite tremble--anyone would think we were burglars.'

She laughed, and stood looking about the room.

'Is that it?' asked Alma, pointing to a volume on a table near her.

'Yes!--no--I'm not sure.'

An alb.u.m it was; Mrs. Strangeways unclasped it, and turned over a few pages with quivering hand.

'No, I thought not. It's a smaller one. Oh, what a good photo of Mrs Carnaby! Have you seen this one?'

Alma stepped forward to look, strangely startled by the name of her friend; it was as though Sibyl herself had suddenly entered the room and found her here. The photograph she already knew; but its eyes seemed to regard her with the very look of life, and at once she drew back.

'Do find the right one, Mrs. Strangeways,' she spoke imploringly. 'It must be--What bell was that?'

An electric bell had rung within the house; it still trembled in her ears, and she turned sick with fright. Mrs. Strangeways, flushing red, stammered a rea.s.surance.

'There--here is the right one--in a minute----'

The door opened. As she saw it move, a dreadful certainty of what was about to happen checked Alma's breath, and a sound like a sob escaped her; then she was looking straight into the eyes of Cyrus Redgrave. He, wearing an ulster and with a travelling-cap in his hand, seemed not to recognise her, but turned his look upon her companion, and spoke with mirthful friendliness.

'What! I have caught you, Mrs. Strangeways? Police! Oh, I am so sorry I didn't send you a wire. I thought you would come tomorrow, or the day after. How very kind of you to take this trouble immediately. I had to run over at a moment's notice.--Mrs. Rolfe! Forgive me; for the moment I didn't know you, coming out of the darkness. So glad to see you.'

He had shaken hands with both of them, behaving as though Mrs. Rolfe's presence were the most natural thing in the world. But Alma's strength failed her; she trembled towards the nearest chair, and sank upon it.

Mrs. Strangeways, who had watched her with anxiety, took a step to her side, speaking hurriedly.

'Mr. Redgrave, I took the liberty to use your house as if it were my own. Mrs. Rolfe has over-tired, over-excited herself. She has been playing this afternoon at a concert at Mrs. Rayner Mann's. We were to drive back together, and came this way that I might call here--for the photo. But Mrs. Rolfe became faint--after her exertions----'

Redgrave surpa.s.sed himself in graceful courtesy. How could Mrs Strangeways dream of offering excuses? Why had she not called for tea--or anything? He would give orders at once, and the ladies would permit him to get rid of his travelling attire, whilst they rested. He was turning to leave the room when Alma rose and commanded her voice.

'I am perfectly well again--thank you so much, Mr. Redgrave--indeed I mustn't stay----'

With admirable suavity Redgrave overcame her desire to be gone.

Pleading, he pa.s.sed playfully from English into French, of which he had a perfect command; then, in his own language, declared that French alone permitted one to make a request without importunity, yet with adequate fervour. Alma again seated herself. As she did so, her host and Mrs. Strangeways exchanged a swift glance of mutual intelligence.

'How can I hope you will forgive me?' the lady murmured at Alma's ear as soon as they were alone.

'It's very annoying, and there's nothing more to be said,' was the cold reply.

'But it isn't of the least importance--do believe me. We are such old friends. And no one can ever know--though it wouldn't matter if all the world did.'

'I dare say not. But, please, let our stay be as short as possible.'

'We will go, dear, as soon as ever we have had a cup of tea. I am _so_ sorry; it was all my foolishness.'

The tea was brought, and Mrs. Strangeways, her nervousness having quite pa.s.sed away, began to talk as if she were in her own drawing-room.

Alma, too, had recovered control of herself, held the teacup in an all but steady hand, and examined the room at her leisure. After ten minutes' absence, Redgrave rejoined them, now in ordinary dress; his face warm from rapid ablution, and his thin hair delicately disposed.

He began talking in a bright, chatty vein. So Mrs. Rolfe had been playing at a concert; how he regretted not having been there! What had she played? Then, leaning forward with an air of kindness that verged on tenderness----

'I am sure it must be very exhausting to the nerves; you have so undeniably the glow, the fervour, of a true artist; it is inspiring to watch you as you play, no less than to hear you. You do feel better now?'

Alma replied with civility, but did not meet his look. She refused another cup of tea, and glanced so meaningly at her friend that in a few moments Mrs. Strangeways rose.

'You won't leave me yet to my solitude?' exclaimed Redgrave. With a sigh he yielded to the inevitable, inquired gently once more whether Mrs. Rolfe felt quite restored, and again overwhelmed Mrs. Strangeways with thanks. Still the ladies had to wait a few minutes for their carriage, which, at Redgrave's direction, had made a long detour in the adjacent roads; and during this delay, as if the prospect of release inspirited her, Alma spoke a few words in a more natural tone. Redgrave had asked what public concerts she usually attended.

'None regularly,' was her reply. 'I should often go on Sat.u.r.days to the Crystal Palace, if it were not so far for me. I want to get there, if possible, on Sat.u.r.day week, to hear Sterndale Bennett's new concerto.'

'Ah, I should like to hear that!' said Redgrave. 'We may perhaps see each other.'

This time she did not refuse to encounter his look, and the smile with which she answered it was so peculiarly expressive of a self-confident disdain that he could scarcely take his eyes from her. Cyrus Redgrave knew as well as most men the signals of challenge on a woman's features; at a recent meeting he had detected something of the sort in Alma's behaviour to him, and at this moment her spirit could not be mistaken. Quite needlessly she had told him where he might find her, if he chose. This was a great step. To be defied so daringly meant to him no small encouragement.

'It's fortunate,' said Alma, as the carriage bore her away, 'that we had this adventure with a _gentleman_.'

The remark sounded surprising to Mrs. Strangeways.

'I'm so glad you have quite got over your annoyance, dear,' she replied.

'It was as bad for you as for me, under the circ.u.mstances. But I'm sure Mr. Redgrave won't give it another thought.'

And Alma chatted very pleasantly all the way back to town, where she dined with Mrs. Strangeways. At eleven o'clock she reached home. Her husband, who was recovering from a sore throat, sat pipeless and in no very cheerful mood by the library fire; but the sight of Alma's radiant countenance had its wonted effect upon him; he stretched his arms, as if to rouse himself from a long fit of reverie, and welcomed her in a voice that was a little husky.

'Well, how did it go?'

'Not badly, I think. And how have you been getting on, poor old boy?'

'So so; swearing a little because I couldn't smoke. But Hughie has a cold tonight; caught mine, I dare say, confound it! Miss Smith took counsel with me about it, and we doctored him a little.'

'Poor dear little man! I wish I had been back in time to see him. But there was no getting away--had to stay to dinner----'

Alma had not the habit of telling falsehoods to her husband, but she did it remarkably well--even better, perhaps, than when she deceived her German friend, Fraulein Steinfeld, in the matter of Cyrus Redgrave's proposal; the years had matured her, endowing her with superior self-possession, and a finish of style in dealing with these little difficulties. She was unwilling to say that she had dined in Porchester Terrace, for Harvey entertained something of a prejudice against that household. His remoteness nowadays from the world in which Alma amused herself made it quite safe to venture on a trifling misstatement.

'I have a note from Carnaby,' said Rolfe. 'He wants to see me in town tomorrow. Says he has good news--"devilish good news", to be accurate.

I wonder what it is.'

'The lawsuit won, perhaps.'

'Afraid not; that'll take a few more years. Odd thing, I have another letter--from Cecil Morphew, and he, too, says that he has something hopeful to tell me about.'

Alma clapped her hands, an unusual expression of joy for her. 'We are cheering up all round!' she exclaimed. 'Now, if only _you_ could light on something fortunate.'

He gave her a quick look.

'What do you mean by that?'

'Only that you haven't seemed in very good spirits lately.'