The Slave of Silence

Beatrice had looked upon this as merely a formal affair. She would pack her things and leave them in Sir Charles's dressing-room ? the door of which had not been sealed ? and send for everything on the morrow. All her costly presents, including the wonderful diamonds from Stephen Richford, she had entirely forgotten. A somewhat tired detective was still watching the jewels in a room off the hall where the wedding breakfast was laid out. But the fact had escaped Beatrice's attention. Lady Rashborough was having tea alone in her boudoir when Beatrice arrived. Her pretty little ladyship was not looking quite so amiable as usual and there was the suggestion of a frown on her face. She had been losing a great deal at bridge lately, and that was not the kind of pastime that Rashborough approved. He was very fond of his empty, hard, selfish, little wife, but he had put his foot down on gambling, and Lady Rashborough had been forced to give her promise to discontinue it. The little woman cared nothing for anyone but herself, and she had small sympathy for Beatrice. " What are you doing here ?" she asked pettishly. " Where is your husband ? " " That I cannot tell you," Beatrice replied. " You hardly expected that I should have started on my honeymoon under such circumstances, did you ? " " My dear child, don't talk nonsense! Of course not. The prpper thing is to go to some very quiet hotel and dine respectably ? to lie low till the funeral is over. Of course this...