Without the shadow of an assignable reason for
it, he found himself blindly distrusting his wife's fidelity, and
blindly suspecting Mr. Bashwood of serving her in the capacity
of go-between. In sheer horror of his own morbid fancy, he
determined to take down the number of the house, and the name
of the street in which it stood; and then, in justice to his
wife, to return at once to the address which she had given him
as the address at which her mother lived. He had taken out his
pocket-book, and was on his way to the corner of the street,
when he observed the man who had driven Mr. Bashwood looking
at him with an expression of inquisitive surprise. The idea
of questioning the cab-driver, while he had the opportunity,
instantly occurred to him. He took a half-crown from his pocket
and put it into the man's ready hand.
"Has the gentleman whom you drove from the station gone into
that house?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Did you hear him inquire for anybody when the door was opened?"
"He asked for a lady, sir. Mrs.--" The man hesitated. "It wasn't
a common name, sir; I should know it again if I heard it."
"Was it 'Midwinter'?"
"No, sir.
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