ngs, but she was out. Leaving
a message that he would return in the morning he went home, sincerely
hoping that he should not again find his study invaded by Zita. Her
jealous reproaches would act on his nerves, if he were to hear much of
them to-night, like the rasping of a dentist's file.

"Good-evening, Bianca," he said when the maid-servant opened the door.
"Has Mme. Reni been here to-day?"

She stared at him blankly

"Mme. Reni? Has she come back, then, sir?"

"What do you mean?" he asked with a frown, stopping short on the mat.

"She went away quite suddenly, just after you did, and left all her
things behind her. She never so much as said she was going."

"Just after I did? What, a f-fortnight ago?"

"Yes, sir, the same day; and her things are lying about
higgledy-piggledy. All the neighbours are talking about it."

He turned away from the door-step without speaking, and went hastily
down the lane to the house where Zita had been lodging. In her rooms
nothing had been touched; all the presents that he had given her were in
their usual places; there was no letter or scrap of writing anywhere.

"If you please, sir," said Bianca, putting her head in at the door,
"there's an old woman----"

He turned round fiercely.

"What do you want here--following me about?"

"An old woman wishes to see you."

"What does she want? Tell her I c-can't see her; I'm busy."

"She has been coming nearly every evening since you went away, sir,
always asking when you would come back."

"Ask her w-what her business is. No; never mind; I suppose I must go
myself."

The old woman was waiting at his hall door. She was very poorly dressed,
with a face as brown and wrinkled as a medlar, and a bright-coloured
scarf twisted round her head. As he came in she rose and looked at him
with keen black eyes.

"You are the lame gentleman," she said, inspecting him critically from
head to foot. "I have brought you a message from Zita Reni."

He opened the study door, and held it for her to pass in; then followed
her and shut the door, that Bianca might not hear.

"Sit down, please. N-now, tell me who you are."

"It's no business of yours who I am. I have come to tell you that Zita
Reni has gone away with my son."

"With--your--son?"

"Yes, sir; if you don't know how to keep your mistress when you've got
her, you can't complain if other men take her. My son has blood in his
veins, not milk and water; he comes of the Romany folk.