He went
straight to the View House, proceeded to his room and sat down to write
some letters. Presently he got up, went down to the office and asked the
porter if Mrs. John Gladney had arrived from London. The porter said she
had. He then felt in his pocket for a card, but changed his mind, saying
to himself that his name would have no meaning for her. He took a piece of
letter paper and wrote on it, "A friend of your husband brings a message
to you." He put it in an envelope, and, addressing it, sent it up to her.
The servant returned, saying that Mrs. Gladney had taken a sitting room
in a house adjacent to the hotel and was probably there. He took the note
and went to the place indicated, sent in the note and waited.
When Mrs. Gladney received the note, she was arranging the few
knick-knacks she had brought. She read the note hurriedly and clinched it
in her hand. "It is his writing--his, Mark Telford! He, my husband's
friend! Good God!"
For a moment she trembled violently and ran her fingers through her golden
hair distractedly, but she partly regained her composure, came forward and
told the servant to show him into the room. She was a woman of instant
determination. She drew the curtains closer, so that the room would be
almost dark to one entering from the sunlight.
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