the wild lord to put his own life in peril, in the hope of revenging
Arthur Mountjoy on the wretch who had killed him. Taking this bad news
for granted, was there any need to distress Iris by communicating the
motive which detained Lord Harry in his own country? Surely not!

And, again, was there any immediate advantage to be gained by revealing
the true character of Mrs. Vimpany, as a spy, and, worse still, a spy
who was paid? In her present state of feeling, Iris would, in all
probability, refuse to believe it.

Arriving at these conclusions, Hugh looked at the doctor snoring and
choking in an easy-chair. He had not wasted the time and patience
devoted to the stratagem which had now successfully reached its end.
After what he had just heard--thanks to the claret--he could not
hesitate to accomplish the speedy removal of Iris from Mr. Vimpany's
house; using her father's telegram as the only means of persuasion on
which it was possible to rely. Mountjoy left the inn without ceremony,
and hurried away to Iris in the hope of inducing her to return to
London with him that night.

CHAPTER VII

DOCTORING THE DOCTOR

ASKING for Miss Henley at the doctor's door, Hugh was informed that she
had gone out, with her invalid maid, for a walk. She had left word, if
Mr. Mountjoy called in her absence, to beg that he would kindly wait
for her return.

On his way up to the drawing-room, Mountjoy heard Mrs. Vimpany's
sonorous voice occupied, as he supposed, in reading aloud. The door
being opened for him, he surprised her, striding up and down the room
with a book in her hand; grandly declaiming without anybody to applaud
her. After what Hugh had already heard, he could only conclude that
reminiscences of her theatrical career had tempted the solitary actress
to make a private appearance, for her own pleasure, in one of those
tragic characters to which her husband had alluded. She recovered her
self-possession on Mountjoy's appearance, with the ease of a mistress
of her art. "Pardon me," she said, holding up her book with one hand,
and tapping it indicatively with the other: "Shakespeare carries me out
of myself. A spark of the poet's fire burns in the poet's humble
servant. May I hope that I have made myself understood? You look as if
you had a fellow-feeling for me."

Mountjoy did his best to fill the sympathetic part assigned to him, and
only succeeded in showing what a bad actor he would have been, if he
had gone on the