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So they all three went out together, and while they stood waiting for Lady Thurwell's victoria, he managed to say a word to her alone. "I will come and see you," he whispered. She looked up at him a little shyly, for in handing her into the carriage he had assumed a certain air of proprietorship which had brought a faint color into her cheeks. "Come soon," she whispered. "Good-bye!"
Sir Allan Beaumerville's lips were closed for ever in this world. An hour or two before the dénouement of Sir Allan Beaumerville's supper party, his brougham had driven up to Mr. Thurwell's town house, and had set down a lady there. She had rung the bell and inquired for Miss Thurwell. The footman who answered the door looked dubious.
Couldn't it be done without it, Ben?" he inquired, in a wheedling tone. "There's piles of money gone already in expenses. Piles and piles." "And if there is, ain't it Miss Thurwell's, you old stupid?" remarked Mr. Benjamin. "'Tain't likely that we should find the money ourselves." "Of course, of course. But, Benjamin, my son, the money is thrown away for all that.
"Meet all boat trains at Waterloo, and try to recognize B. M. King will do to shadow. Ascertain Miss Thurwell's address. Home early to-morrow." The second was from his acquaintance, the artist, to Scotland Yard. "Bernard Maddison ahead of us. Meet all trains. Tall, dark, thin, pale, brown check traveling ulster. Photograph for sale in Regent Street if can get to shop."
"Then, because I could not bring myself to tell her the news which I had gone all that way to impart, I came away." There was a moment's silence. A servant who had just entered the room whispered in Mr. Thurwell's ear. "Two gentlemen wish to speak to you, Mr. Maddison," he said, repeating the message. "Where have you shown them, Roberts? in the library?"
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