She
looked ten years older than on the day previous.
No one saw her during the morning. At dinner-time their places were
vacant at the table.
"Where are the general and his wife?" was asked as time passed and
they did not make their appearance.
No one had seen either of them since breakfast.
Mrs. Craig knew that Mrs. Abercrombie had not been out of her room
all the morning, but she did not feel inclined to take part in the
conversation, and so said nothing.
"I saw the general going into the Clarendon about two o'clock," said
a gentleman. "He's dining with some friend, most probably."
"I hear," remarked another, "that he acted rather strangely at Mr.
Birtwell's last night."
Every ear pricked up at this.
"How?" "In what way?" "Tell us about it," came in quick response to
the speaker's words.
"I didn't get anything like a clear story. But there was some
trouble about his wife."
"About his wife?" Faces looked eagerly down and across the table.
"What about his wife?" came from half a dozen lips.
"He thought some one too intimate with her, I believe. A brother
officer, if I am not mistaken. Some old flame, perhaps. But I
couldn't learn any of the particulars."
"Ah! That accounts for their singular conduct this morning. Was
there much of a row?" This came from a thin-visaged young man with
eye-glasses and a sparse, whitish moustache.
"I didn't say anything about a row," was the rather sharp reply.
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