But Iris Henley was Lady Harry now.
She was sinking--as Mrs. Vimpany had feared, as Mountjoy had
foreseen--lower and lower on the descent to her husband's level. With a
false appearance of interest in what he was saying she waited for her
chance of matching him with his own weapons of audacious deceit. He
ignorantly offered her the opportunity--setting the same snare to catch
his wife, which she herself had it in contemplation to use for
entrapping her husband into a confession of the truth.
"Ah, well--I have said more than enough of my last night's amusement,"
he confessed. "It's your turn now, my dear. Have you had a look at the
poor fellow whom the doctor is going to cure?" he asked abruptly; eager
to discover whether she had noticed the likeness between Oxbye and
himself.
Her eyes rested on him attentively. "I have not yet seen the person you
allude to," she answered. "Is Mr. Vimpany hopeful of his recovery?"
He took out his case, and busied himself in choosing a cigar. In the
course of his adventurous life, he had gained some knowledge of the
effect of his own impetuous temper on others, and of difficulties which
he had experienced when circumstances rendered it necessary to keep his
face in a state of discipline.
"Oh, there's no reason for anxiety!" he said, with an over-acted
interest in examining his cigar. "Mr. Oxbye is in good hands."
"People do sometimes sink under an illness," she quietly remarked.
Without making any reply he took out his matchbox. His hand trembled a
little; he failed at the first attempt to strike a light.
"And doctors sometimes make mistakes," Iris went on.
He was still silent. At the second attempt, he succeeded with the
match, and lit his cigar.
"Suppose Mr. Vimpany made a mistake," she persisted. "In the case of
this stranger, it might lead to deplorable results."
Lord Harry lost his temper, and with it his colour.
"What the devil do you mean?" he cried.
"I might ask, in my turn," she said, "what have I done to provoke an
outbreak of temper? I only made a remark."
At that critical moment, Fanny Mere entered the room with a telegram in
her hand.
"For you, my lady."
Iris opened the telegram. The message was signed by Mrs. Vimpany, and
was expressed in these words: "You may feel it your duty to go to your
father. He is dangerously ill."