“Elise was there,” he remarked.
“And you danced with her, of course. She’s
such a ripping dancer.”
“Twice. When I found you were not there
I went on to the club,” he replied, with his
usual air of boredom. “When do you expect
your mother back?”
“Next Tuesday. I’m going down to
Huntingdon to-morrow to stay with the Fishers.”
“Oh! by the way,” he remarked suddenly.
“Tubby Hall, who is just back from Madrid, told
me in the club last night that he’d seen your
friend Henfrey in a restaurant there with a pretty
French girl.”
“In Madrid!” echoed Dorise, for she had
no idea of her lover’s whereabouts. “He
must have been mistaken surely.”
“No. Tubby is an old friend of Henfrey’s.
He says that he and the girl seemed to be particularly
good friends.”
Dorise hesitated.
“You tell me this in order to cause me annoyance!”
she exclaimed.
“Not at all. I’ve only told you what
Tubby said.”
“Did your friend speak to Mr. Henfrey?”
“I think not. But I really didn’t
inquire,” Sherrard replied, not failing, however,
to note how puzzled she was.
Lady Ranscomb was already assuring him that the girl’s
affection for the absconding Henfrey would, sooner
or later, fade out. More than once he and she
had held consultation concerning the proposed marriage,
and more than once Sherrard had been on the point
of withdrawing from the contest for the young girl’s
heart. But her mother was never tired of bidding
him be patient, and saying that in the end he would
obtain his desire.
Sherrard, however, little dreamed how great was Dorise’s
love for Hugh, and how deeply she regretted having
written that hasty letter to Shapley.
Yet one of Hugh’s friends had met him in Madrid
in company with what was described as a pretty young
French girl!
What was the secret of it all? Was Hugh really
guilty of the attempt upon the notorious Mademoiselle?
If not, why did he not face the charge like a man?
Such were her thoughts when, an hour later, her mother’s
car took her out to Kensington to lunch with her old
school friend who was on the point of being married
to a man who had won great distinction in the Air
Force, and whose portrait was almost daily in the papers.
Would she ever marry Hugh, she wondered, as she sat
gazing blankly out upon the London traffic. She
would write to him, but, alas! she knew neither the
name under which he was going, nor his address.
And a telephone message to Mr. Peters’s house
had been answered to the effect that the man whose
hand was gloved was abroad, and the date of his return
uncertain.
THE SPARROW’S NEST
Mademoiselle Lisette met her two guests at Vian’s
small but exclusive restaurant in the Rue Daunou,
and all three had a merry meal together. Afterwards
The Sparrow smoked a good cigar and became amused at
the young girl’s chatter.
