Uffington looked quickly round. At that moment the bay horse shied at a dog which darted from under the railings, and its rider, turning white with rage, brought his riding-stick down with all his force between its ears. The horse bucked and lashed out, but its rider never moved in his seat, and the next moment the little cavalcade had broken into a gallop and were out of sight.
'Nice lot, isn't he?' muttered Tom Lydyeard between his teeth; 'they say he treated his wife that way, and yet they tell me that now there is not a soul in the place, man or woman, to speak a kind word to her, or to do her a good turn. Queer world, ain't it, Uffington?'
'Very,' said Nugent. 'Good-bye;' and he cantered off in the direction of Grosvenor-place.
It was not time for luncheon yet, he thought, as he rode out under the arch, and he might as well ride round and see where Podbury-street--what a curious name!--where Podbury-street was. Sixty-eight was the number that Frank Eardley had mentioned; and here was Podbury-street, and there was sixty-eight, with a handsome brougham--harness a little too heavily plated, and coachman's livery a thought too gorgeous--standing at the door. Now the door opened, and a young lady came out, whom Nugent had no difficulty in recognising as Miss Irvine--she did not see him, for she darted hastily into the carriage--saw her, too, sufficiently plainly to notice that tears were rolling down her cheeks.
What could be the meaning of that? Decidedly Sir Nugent Uffington was much interested in Miss Eleanor Irvine and Lady Forestfield.
Frank Eardley was punctual to his appointment with Sir Nugent Uffington, and the friends started at once for their proposed drive to Richmond.