Part 15 (1/2)
”Oh!” escaped from Dora.
”Perhaps that it was going on.”
”It's worse than ever. They may have asked for answers.”
”Probably.”
”And they won't have written here!”
”Sure not to have.”
”And--and I shan't know what to do. I--I believe it was to say he had broken off the marriage.”
”Is the wish father to the thought?”
The lights of the station flickered, but Charlie saw, or thought he saw, a hasty unpremeditated gesture of protest.
”Dolly!” he whispered.
”Hush, hus.h.!.+ How can you now--before we know?”
”The cab's waiting,” called Deane. ”Come along.”
They got in in silence. The General and the Deanes went first, and the three young people followed in a second vehicle. It was but just twelve, and the boulevards were gay and full of people.
Suddenly, as they were near the Opera, they saw the tall figure of an unmistakable Englishman walking away from them down the Avenue de l'Opera. Dora clutched Charlie's arm with a convulsive grip.
”Hullo, what's the--” he began, but a second pinch enforced silence.
”See that chap?” asked Laing, pointing to the figure. ”He's at my hotel.”
”Is he?” said Dora in a faint voice.
”Yes, I've got a good deal of amus.e.m.e.nt out of him. He oughtn't to be out so late though, and by himself, too!”
”Who is it?” asked Charlie.
”I don't know his name.”
”And why oughtn't he to be out?”
”Because he's on his honeymoon,”
”What?” cried Dora.
”Just married,” explained Laing. ”Wife's a tallish girl, fair, rather good-looking; looks standoffish though.”
”You--you're sure they're married, Mr. Laing?” gasped Dora, and Charlie, in whom her manner had awakened a suspicion of the truth, also waited eagerly for the reply.
”What, Miss Bellairs?” asked Laing in surprise.