But calm I remained under these aspersions, counting upon a
clean-cut vindication of his lordship's methods when he should have
got the woman where he wished her.
I remained, I repeat, serenely confident that a signal triumph would
presently crown his lordship's subtly planned attack. And then, at
midweek, I was rudely shocked to the suspicion that all might not be
going well with his plan. I had not seen the pair for a day, and when
they did appear for their tea I instantly detected a profound change
in their mutual bearing. His lordship still looked at the woman, but
the raillery of their past meetings had gone. Too plainly something
momentous had occurred. Even the woman was serious. Had they fought to
the last stand? Would she have been too much for him? I mean to say,
was the Honourable George cooked?
I now recalled that I had observed an almost similar change in the
latter's manner. His face wore a look of wildest gloom that might have
been mitigated perhaps by a proper trimming of his beard, but even
then it would have been remarked by those who knew him well. I
divined, I repeat, that something momentous had now occurred and that
the Honourable George was one not least affected by it.
Rather a sleepless night I passed, wondering fearfully if, after all,
his lordship would have been unable to extricate the poor chap from
this sordid entanglement.
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