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Updated: May 14, 2025
Her lips had been set and almost thin; now they grew most kissable. Lord Loudwater finished his breakfast, the scowl on his face fading slowly to a frown. He lit a cigar and with a moody air went to his smoking-room. The criminal carelessness of the cat Melchisidec still rankled. As he entered the room, half office and half smoking-room, Mr. Herbert Manley, his secretary, bade him good morning.
She had not known what was coming, but the prospect had been full of possibilities; and, thanks to the sudden appearance of the cat Melchisidec at the crucial moment, she had not been disappointed. Today she would have gone to meet the man who loved her in yet higher spirits, for there is no blinking the fact that she was wholly unable to grieve for her husband.
At least I brought it," said Grey, waving his hand towards a basket which stood on the table. "I knew you'd be happier for tea." "No one has ever been so thoughtful of me as you are," she said, gazing at him with grateful, troubled eyes. "Let's hope that your luck is changing," he said gravely, gazing at her with eyes no less troubled. Then Melchisidec scratched at the door and mewed.
He went quietly out of the room, pausing at the door to scowl at his master's back. Lady Loudwater finished her breakfast in the sitting-room of her suite of rooms on the first floor. She was no longer inattentive to Melchisidec. During her breakfast she put all consideration of her husband's behaviour out of her mind. As she smoked a cigarette after breakfast she considered it for a little while.
It was no more than gentle, arresting pricks; but the tender nobleman sprang from his chair with a short howl, kicked with futile violence a portion of the empty air which Melchisidec had just vacated, staggered, and nearly fell. Lady Loudwater did not laugh; but she did cough. Her husband, his face a furious crimson, glared at her with reddish eyes, and swore violently at her and the cat.
But she seemed to him to be really less moved by the murder of her husband than she would have been, had the Lord Loudwater carried out his not infrequent threat of shooting, or hanging, or drowning the cat Melchisidec. "No one so far seems to be able to throw any light at all on the crime," said Mr. Manley. Olivia frowned thoughtfully, but seemed to have no more to say on the matter.
Lord Loudwater was paying attention neither to his breakfast nor to the cat Melchisidec. Absorbed in a leader in The Times newspaper, now and again he tugged at his red-brown beard in order to quicken his comprehension of the weighty phrases of the leader-writer; now and again he made noises, chiefly with his nose, expressive of disgust. Lady Loudwater paid no attention to these noises.
Lady Loudwater rose, her face flushed, her lips trembling, picked up Melchisidec, and walked out of the room. Lord Loudwater scowled at the closed door, sat down, and went on with his breakfast. James Hutchings, the butler, came quietly into the room, took one of the smaller dishes from the sideboard and Lady Loudwater's teapot from the table.
But he had assured her that he could not help it, that he was always blurting things out. Since it was a habit of long standing, now probably ingrained, it was useless to reproach him with any great severity for his frankness. She did not do so. For his part, the Lord Loudwater had but little to say to his wife. She was fond of Melchisidec and indifferent to horses.
He had ridden eight miles round and about his estate, and the ride had soothed that seat of the evil humours his liver. Lady Loudwater had been careful to shut Melchisidec in her boudoir; James Hutchings had no desire in the world to see his master's florid face or square back, and had instructed Wilkins and Holloway, the first and second footmen, to wait at table.
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