"I don't believe it," the girl cried.
She had received word in secret--presumably from the White Cavalier--to meet Hugh at the Bush Hotel at Farnham on the following afternoon, but this secret news held her in doubt and despair.
Lady Ranscomb dropped the subject, and began to speak of other things--of a visit to the flying-ground at Hendon on the following day, and of an invitation they had received to spend the following week with a friend at Cowes.
On arrival home Dorise went at once to her room, where her maid awaited her.
After the distracted girl had thrown off her cloak, her maid unhooked her dress, whereupon Dorise dismissed her to bed.
"I want to read, so go to bed," she said in a petulant voice which rather surprised the neat muslin-aproned maid.
"Very well, miss. Good-night," the latter replied meekly.
But as soon as the door was closed Dorise flung herself upon the chintz-covered couch and wept bitterly as though her heart would break.
She had met Louise Lambert--it was Hugh who had introduced them. George Sherrard had several times told her of the friendship between the pair, and one night at the Haymarket Theatre she had seen them together in a box. On another occasion she had met them at Ciro's, and they had been together at the Embassy, at Ranelagh, and yet again she had seen them lunching together one Sunday at the Metropole at Brighton.
All this had aroused suspicion and jealousy in her mind. It was all very well for Hugh to disclaim anything further than pure friendship, but now that Gossip was casting her hydra-headed venom upon their affairs, it was surely time to act.
Hugh would be awaiting her at Farnham next afternoon.
She crossed to the window and looked at the bright stars. In war time she used to see the long beams of searchlights playing to and fro. But now all was peace in London, and the world-war half forgotten.
Within herself arose a great struggle. Hugh was accused of a crime--an accusation of which he could not clear himself. He had been hunted across Europe by the police and had, up to the present, been successful in slipping through their fingers.
But why did he visit that notorious woman at that hour of the night? What could have been the secret bond between them?
The woman had narrowly escaped death presumably on account of his murderous attack upon her, while he had cleverly evaded arrest, until, at the present moment, his whereabouts was known only to a dinner-table gossip, and he was staying in the same house as the girl, love for whom he had always so vehemently disclaimed.