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Updated: June 19, 2025
"Why did not you call on me at home?" "Because of your mother. She would probably have been a little inquisitive. Let us go into some place a tea-room where we can talk," she suggested. "I have come to see you concerning Mr. Henfrey." "Where is he?" asked Dorise, in an instant anxious. "Quite safe. He arrived in Malines yesterday and is with friends." "Has he had my letters?" "Unfortunately, no.
Then he wondered what Dorise would think when he failed to put in an appearance to go with her to the ball at Nice. He pictured the car waiting outside the hotel, Lady Ranscomb fidgeting and annoyed, the count elegant and all smiles and graces, and Dorise, anxious and eager, going to the telephone and speaking to the concierge at the Palmiers.
That is why I must see Dorise Ranscomb and ascertain from her exactly what she has heard. I know the police tracked Hugh to London, and for that reason he went with Benton down into Surrey out of the frying-pan into the fire." "Well, before we can go farther, it seems that we should ascertain who shot Yvonne," Howell suggested.
Duncan was naturally curious owing to the effect the card had had upon her mistress, but she was too well trained to make any comment. Instead, she busied herself at the wardrobe, and a few moments afterwards left the room. Dorise stood before the long cheval glass, the card still in her hand. What did it mean? Why was the mysterious white cavalier in Scotland?
"You tell me this in order to prejudice me against Hugh to to " "Hugh! Whom you love eh?" sneered Sherrard. "Yes. I do love him," the girl blurted forth. "I make no secret of it. And if you like you can tell my mother that! You are very fond of acting as her factotum!" "It is to be regretted, Dorise, that you have fallen in love with a fellow who is wanted by the police," he remarked with a sigh.
It's a strange world in which I find myself, Dorise, I assure you! Good-bye, darling good-bye!" and he took her in a final embrace. "Good-bye till Tuesday week." Then stepping on to the grass, where his feet fell noiselessly, he disappeared in the dark shadow of the great avenue of beeches.
Dorise was in no mood to lunch with her mother's visitor, but, nevertheless, was compelled to be polite. After washing their hands in the stream, they sat down together upon a great, grey boulder that had been worn smooth by the action of the water, and, taking out their sandwiches, began to eat them. "Oh, I say!" exclaimed Sherrard suddenly, after they had been gossiping for some time.
But do not let us talk here. Let's go in yonder," and she indicated the Laurel Tea Rooms, which, the hour being early, they found, to their satisfaction, practically deserted. At a table in the far corner they resumed their conversation. "Why has he not received my letters?" asked Dorise. "It is nearly a month ago since I first wrote."
Half an hour later Hugh Henfrey retired, but he found sleep impossible; so he got up and sat at the open window, gazing across to the dim outlines of the Surrey hills, picturesque and undulating beneath the stars. Who could have called him on the telephone? It was a woman, but the voice might have been that of a female telephone operator. Or yet it might have been that of Dorise!
Had not Dorise told him of the sly hints her mother had recently given her regarding a certain very wealthy man named George Sherrard, an eligible bachelor who lived in one of the most expensive flats in Park Lane, and who was being generally sought after by mothers with marriageable daughters.
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