"He is your worst enemy. Hold your tongue! I'll explain what I mean
directly. Rouse your memory, if you have got a memory left. I want to
know what you and Mr. Mountjoy talked about after dinner."

He stared at her helplessly. She tried to find her way to his
recollection by making suggestive inquiries. It was useless; he only
complained of being thirsty. His wife lost her self-control. She was
too furiously angry with him to be able to remain in the room.
Recovering her composure when she was alone, she sent for soda-water
and brandy. Her one chance of making him useful was to humour his vile
temper; she waited on him herself.

In some degree, the drink cleared his muddled head. Mrs. Vimpany tried
his memory once more. Had he said this? Had he said that? Yes: he
thought it likely. Had he, or had Mr. Mountjoy, mentioned Lord Harry's
name? A glimmer of intelligence showed itself in his stupid eyes.
Yes--and they had quarrelled about it: he rather thought he had thrown
a bottle at Mr. Mountjoy's head. Had they, either of them, said
anything about Miss Henley? Oh, of course! What was it? He was unable
to remember. Had his wife done bothering him, now?

"Not quite," she replied. "Try to understand what I am going to say to
you. If Lord Harry comes to us while Miss Henley is in our house--"

He interrupted her: "That's your business."

"Wait a little. It's my business, if I hear beforehand that his
lordship is coming. But he is quite reckless enough to take us by
surprise. In that case, I want you to make yourself useful. If you
happen to be at home, keep him from seeing Miss Henley until I have