t the shadow of an assignable reason for it, he found himself
blindly distrusting his wife's fidelity, and blindly suspecting Mr.
Bashwood of serving her in the capacity of go-between. In sheer horror
of his own morbid fancy, he determined to take down the number of
the house, and the name of the street in which it stood; and then, in
justice to his wife, to return at once to the address which she had
given him as the address at which her mother lived. He had taken out
his pocket-book, and was on his way to the corner of the street, when
he observed the man who had driven Mr. Bashwood looking at him with
an expression of inquisitive surprise. The idea of questioning the
cab-driver, while he had the opportunity, instantly occurred to him. He
took a half-crown from his pocket and put it into the man's ready hand.

"Has the gentleman whom you drove from the station gone into that
house?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Did you hear him inquire for anybody when the door was opened?"

"He asked for a lady, sir. Mrs.--" The man hesitated. "It wasn't a
common name, sir; I should know it again if I heard it."

"Was it 'Midwinter'?"

"No, sir.

"Armadale?"

"That's it, sir. Mrs. Armadale."

"Are you sure it was 'Mrs.' and not 'Mr.'?"

"I'm as sure as a man can be who hasn't taken any particular notice,
sir."

The doubt implied in that last answer decided Midwinter to investigate
the matter on the spot. He ascended the house steps. As he raised his
hand to the bell at the side of the door, the violence of his agitation
mastered him physically for the moment. A strange sensation, as of
something leaping up from his heart to his brain, turned his head wildly
giddy. He held by the house railings and kept his face to the air, and
resolutely waited till he was steady again. Then he rang the bell.

"Is?"--he tried to ask for "Mrs. Armadale," when the maid-servant had
opened the door, but not even his resolution could force the name to
pass his lips--"is your mistress at home?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

The girl showed him into a back parlor, and presented him to a little
old lady, with an obliging manner and a bright pair of eyes.

"There is some mistake," said Midwinter. "I wished to see--" Once more
he tried to utter the name, and once more he failed to force it to his
lips.

"Mrs. Armadale?" suggested the little old lady, with a smile.

"Yes."

"Show the gentleman upstairs, Jenny."

The girl led the way to the drawi