only vague intimations, nothing definite, nothing satisfactory.
There was another point of resemblance. Norah had one male relative whocame out into the open for inspection, in her case a brother, afterwardsdiscovered to be a criminal. Stella Keane had one male relative also,in her case a cousin, of whom nothing was known, except that he was anundesirable person who had not visited his relative's house since hermarriage, no doubt for reasons well-known to himself and Stella.
_Ergo_ the undesirable cousin was lying low, as George Burton would havelain low, when Jack Pomfret had openly acknowledged Norah as his wife.
And yet--and yet--was there anything in these suspicions? Was he notallowing himself to be misled by a chance resemblance, by randomcoincidences?
He stole a look at Guy Spencer chatting amiably with his cousin, thecousin whom rumour had persistently designed as the future Countess ofSouthleigh. He seemed the happy contented young married man; there wasno hint of trouble or regret in his assured, placid demeanour.Evidently he was suffering from no self-reproach, no suspicion of thebeautiful young woman he had made his wife. The calmness of his aspectgave the lie to any such disquieting suggestions.
And the current of Murchison's thoughts ran swiftly along. They hadbeen married some time now. If Stella Keane was the impostor Hughsuspected her to be, from that striking resemblance to Norah Burton theheroine of that tragic Blankfield episode, surely in the close intimacyof wedded life something would have escaped her that would have arousedher husband's suspicions, have set him inquiring more closely into thepast.
Granting that she was a clever actress, still the most accomplishedperformer in the world could not wear the mask all day. There must comeone moment, if not several moments, when that mask would beinadvertently dropped.
No, he must be mistaken. The resemblance must be accidental. Thebrother in the one case, the cousin in the other, were equallyaccidental coincidences.
He had got to this frame of mind when the men joined the ladies afterdinner. In the spacious drawing-room, the atmosphere seemed to havecleared, the tension to be relaxed, with the change of scene.
This was readily comprehensible. During dinner, Lord Southleigh,frowning and morose, in close juxtaposition with his guests, had in avery real sense dominated the scene, and communicated a sense of hishostility and displeasure to all round him, not least to the unhappyyoung woman who had inspired those wrathful feelings.
Upstairs he was less in evidence. He retreated to the far end of theroom, flung himself in a deep armchair, and, in a way, removed himselffrom the proceedings. There was nobody to whom he felt himselfconstrained to be civil. Murchison he had known from a boy; he couldafford to be uncivil, to play the role of churlish host. Miss Crichtonwas more or less a social hanger-on, grateful for invitations to goodhouses; she did not count. Guy had forfeited all claim toconsideration. His wife ought to be made to feel her position everymoment of her life.
Murchison gravitated to Miss Crichton. Well-born, she was very poor,and by no means proud. She accepted in a meek spirit the social crumbsthat were thrown at her by her wealthy superiors. She was alwaysobliging and amiable. She never grumbled at being asked to join adinner-party at the eleventh hour, when some other guest had failed.She never resented being put in a small bedroom at a countryhouse-party, while a rich girl with no ancestry was given a luxuriousapartment.
On account of this excessive amiability, this indifference to studiedand unstudied slights, she was immensely popular. All her friendsdeclared her not only to be amiable, but "so sensible?"
Hugh had known her for years, and in a way he pitied her, much morereally than she pitied herself, for she had long since grown accustomedto her lot. But what he did know was, that she was as shrewd as she wasamiable, that under that gay and smiling exterior she concealed a veryacute intelligence.
He wanted particularly to know her opinion of Mrs Spencer, if she werefrank enough to give it, for she had especially developed the bump ofcaution. She heard a great deal, but what she heard she generally keptto herself. It would have been fatal to her somewhat insecure positionif it could have been said of her, with regard to any particularscandal, "Of course, you will never give me away, but Laura Crichton wasmy informant."
He replied in a general way, "I was very interested, to-night, in my oldfriend Guy Spencer's wife. She is a little bit on the quiet side, butshe is very beautiful, and there is certainly a wonderful charm abouther. Of course, Lord Southleigh behaved abominably. I rather wondershe did not fling herself out of the room. One can understand hisfeelings, in a certain way. But why does he not take one attitude orthe other? If he elects to receive her, for the sake of avoiding anopen breach, he ought to put his hostility in his pocket."
Miss Crichton smiled her worldly and diplomatic smile: "Dear LordSouthleigh is never very successful at hiding his real feelings."
"Do you see much of her?" asked Hugh presently.
"Oh, very little. I have met her a few times here, at these littleinformal gatherings. Lord Southleigh won't have her at their bigparties, as I daresay you know. I have called on her a few times, andshe has called back. That is all."
"Well, you have seen enough to form some opinion of her. I shoulddearly like to know what that is."
Miss Crichton looked at him quizzically. "Oh, the artfulness of youmen! Do you think I don't see that you are trying to draw me? Well, Ihave formed the same conclusion that you have--she is very beautiful,and, from a man's point of view, has a subtle charm. Will that contentyou?"
Hugh regarded her with a smile as quizzical as her own. "No, I'm afraidit won't. Now, look here, we are very old friends," he saidpersuasively, "and I am pretty near as discreet as you are, I neverrepeat what is told me in confidence. I should like to put a plainquestion to you."
"Put it: I don't promise to answer it, you know."
"Of course not. But I am very much interested in this strange marriageof Guy's. And, please don't think I am laying it on with a trowel, butI have very great faith in your judgment, I would trust it more than Iwould that of nine-tenths of the women I know."
Of course she knew he was flattering her to obtain his purpose; butthen--was the most sensible woman absolutely impervious to flattery?
"Ask me your question," she answered briefly.
Hugh sank his voice to a whisper. "We hear a great deal about herreticence as to the past. Do you think, in a few words, that StellaSpencer is a good and straight woman in the general sense in which weunderstand the expression?"
For a moment Miss Crichton hesitated, then she looked him straight inthe face. He had compelled her to a most unusual frankness.
"You will, of course, never breathe a word of this to anybody. SupposeI say I refuse to reply to your question. Will you take that refusal asthe answer you really want?"
"I will--a thousand thanks. The subject is closed between us," wasHugh's grateful reply.
A diversion was caused by the approach of Guy Spencer.
"Hugh, old man, I am aching for a long crack with you. Come and dinequietly with us next week. I suggest Tuesday if that will suit you?"
"Perfectly; I am free on Tuesday, Guy."
"Right, then. But to make sure, if Miss Crichton will excuse us, wewill go over to Stella and see if I have forgotten something, if we arefree that night. I can't always carry these things in my head."
They crossed over to the beautiful young woman, who was sustaining asomewhat listless conversation with her young hostess.
"Stella," cried her husband, "I have asked Hugh to dine with us onTuesday. My recollection is that we have nothing on for that night.But I thought you had better confirm it. You carry these things in yourhead so much better than I do."
Young Mrs Spencer smiled at Hugh her sweet smile, and as she did so herlikeness to Norah Burton was overwhelming, the Norah Burton who hadsmiled at him in just the same way six years ago, in the tea-shop atBlankfield.
"We are quite free, Majo
r Murchison, and shall be delighted to see you."
For a few moments he sat down beside her; and very shortly anothercoincidence happened.
Mrs Spencer made use of a certain word which is always pronounced in acertain way by educated people, and in another way by people who areonly partially educated. Norah Burton had pronounced this particularword in the same way as Stella.
Hugh had commented upon the fact to Pomfret, and that easy-going youngman had remarked to him that he failed to see it much mattered, that shewas at liberty to pronounce the word as she thought fit.
When he got home, he passed a very restless night. When he had gone upinto the drawing-room after dinner, he had been half prepared to dismissthe matter from his mind as a mere fantasy. And then had come his briefinterview with Laura Crichton, in which she gave him plainly tounderstand that, in her