domestic as before answered it, and again he asked
for Mrs. Lant. He waited five minutes; the servant came back, saying
that Mrs. Lant was not in the house. This did not greatly surprise him,
but he insisted on a repetition of the search. Mrs. Lant could not be
found. Evidently her disappearance was a mystery to this young woman,
who seemed ingenuous to the point of simple-mindedness.

'You are not to go into that room,' said Hugh. (They were talking in
the hall.) 'The doctor will return presently.'

And therewith he left the house. But not the grounds; for in rain and
darkness he stood watching from a place of concealment, watching at the
same time Redgrave's curtained window and the front entrance. His
patience was not overtaxed. There sounded an approaching vehicle; it
came up the drive and stopped at the front door, where at once alighted
the doctor and a lady. Hugh's espial was at an end. As the two stepped
into the house he walked quickly away.

Yes, he would 'report himself', but not until he had seen Sibyl. To
that end he must go home and wait there. The people at Wimbledon, who
doubtless would communicate with the police, might cause him to be
arrested before his wife's return. He feared this much more than what
was to follow. Worse than anything that could befall him would be to
lose the opportunity of speaking in private with Sibyl before she knew
what had happened.

In the early hours of the morning he lay down upon his bed and had
snatches of troubled sleep. Knowing that he was wrong in the particular
surmise which led him to Redgrave's house, Sibyl's absence no longer
disturbed him with suspicions; a few hours would banish from his mind
the last doubt of her, if any really remained. He had played the
madman, bringing ruin upon himself and misery incalculable upon his
wife, just because that thieving woman lied to him. She, of course, had
made her speedy escape; and was it not as well? For, if the whole story
became known, what hope was there that Sibyl would come out of it with
untarnished fame? Merely for malice' sake, the woman would repeat and
magnify her calumnies. If she successfully concealed herself, it might
be possible to avoid a mention of Sibyl's name. He imagined various
devices for this purpose, his brain plotting even when he slept.

To Alma Rolfe he gave scarcely a thought. If the worst were true of
her, Rolfe had only to thank his own absurdity, which allowed such a
conceited simpleto