emote corner in which they stood, that Midwinter's fiery temper
was rising, and was not to be trifled with. The extremity of his danger
inspired him with the one ready capacity that a timid man possesses when
he is compelled by main force to face an emergency--the capacity to lie.
"I only meant to say, sir," he burst out, with a desperate effort to
look and speak confidently, "that Mr. Armadale would be surprised--"

"You said _Mrs._ Armadale!"

"No, sir--on my word of honor, on my sacred word of honor, you are
mistaken--you are, indeed! I said _Mr._ Armadale--how could I say
anything else? Please to let me go, sir--I'm pressed for time. I do
assure you I'm dreadfully pressed for time!"

For a moment longer Midwinter maintained his hold, and in that moment he
decided what to do.

He had accurately stated his motive for returning to England as
proceeding from anxiety about his wife--anxiety naturally caused (after
the regular receipt of a letter from her every other, or every third
day) by the sudden cessation of the correspondence between them on her
side for a whole week. The first vaguely terrible suspicion of some
other reason for her silence than the reason of accident or of illness,
to which he had hitherto attributed it, had struck through him like
a sudden chill the instant he heard the steward associate the name of
"Mrs. Armadale" with the idea of his wife. Little irregularities in her
correspondence with him, which he had thus far only thought strange,
now came back on his mind, and proclaimed themselves to be suspicions as
well. He had hitherto believed the reasons she had given for referring
him, when he answered her letters, to no more definite address than
an address at a post-office. _Now_ he suspected her reasons of being
excuses, for the first time. He had hitherto resolved, on reaching
London, to inquire at the only place he knew of at which a clew to her
could be found--the address she had given him as the address at which
"her mother" lived. _Now_ (with a motive which he was afraid to define
even to himself, but which was strong enough to overbear every other
consideration in his mind) he determined, before all things, to solve
the mystery of Mr. Bashwood's familiarity with a secret, which was a
marriage secret between himself and his wife. Any direct appeal to a man
of the steward's disposition, in the steward's present state of mind,
would be evidently useless. The weapon of deception was, in thi