Olivia hesitated. She was quite sure that her husband had done nothing of
the kind, for if he had worked himself up into a dangerous frame of mind
he would assuredly have made some effort to get at her and give some
violent expression to it. But she said:

"That I can't say. I wish I'd gone down to dinner--now. But I was too
much annoyed. I dined in my boudoir. I'd had quite enough unpleasantness
for one day. Perhaps one of the servants could tell you. They may have
noticed something unusual in him--perhaps that he was brooding."

"Wilkins did say that Lord Loudwater seemed upset at dinner, and that he
was frowning most of the meal," said Mr. Flexen.

"That wasn't unusual," said Olivia somewhat pathetically. "Besides--"

She stopped short, on the very verge of saying that she was sure that
those frowns cleared from her husband's face before the sweets, for he
would never take afternoon tea, in order to have a better appetite for
dinner, and consequently was wont to begin that meal in a tetchy humour.
Such an explanation would have gone no way to support the hypothesis of
suicide. Instead of making it she said:

"Of course, he did seem frightfully upset."

"But you don't think that he was sufficiently upset to do himself an
injury?" said Mr. Flexen.

Olivia had formed a strong impression that her husband would not in any
circumstance do himself an injury; it was his part to injure others.
But she said: