Before saying a word on his side, Midwinter looked distrustfully behind him. Mr. Bashwood had followed them. Mr. Bashwood was watching to see what they did next.
'Was he waiting your arrival here to tell you this about Miss Milroy?' asked Midwinter, looking again from the steward to Allan.
'Yes,' said Allan. 'He has been kindly waiting here, night after night, to meet me, and break the news to me.'
Midwinter paused once more. The attempt to reconcile the conclusion he had drawn from his wife's conduct with the discovery that Allan was the man for whose arrival Mr. Bashwood had been waiting was hopeless. The one present chance of discovering a truer solution of the mystery was to press the steward on the one available point in which he had laid himself open to attack. He had positively denied on the previous evening that he knew anything of Allan's movements, or that he had any interest in Allan's return to England. Having detected Mr. Bashwood in one lie told to himself. Midwinter instantly suspected him of telling another to Allan. He seized the opportunity of sifting the statement about Miss Milroy on the spot.
'How have you become acquainted with this sad news?' he inquired, turning suddenly on Mr. Bashwood.
'Through the major, of course,' said Allan, before the steward could answer.
'Who is the doctor who has the care of Miss Milroy?' persisted Midwinter, still addressing Mr. Bashwood.
For the second time the steward made no reply. For the second time, Allan answered for him.
'He is a man with a foreign name,' said Allan. 'He keeps a Sanitarium near Hampstead. What did you say the place was called, Mr. Bashwood?'
'Fairweather Vale, sir,' said the steward, answering his employer, as a matter of necessity, but answering very unwillingly.
The address of the Sanitarium instantly reminded Midwinter that he had traced his wife to Fairweather Vale Villas the previous night. He began to see light through the darkness, dimly, for the first time. The instinct which comes with emergency, before the slower process of reason can assert itself, brought him at a leap to the conclusion that Mr. Bashwood—who had been certainly acting under his wife's influence the previous day—might be acting again under his wife's influence now. He persisted in sifting the steward's statement, with the conviction growing firmer and firmer in his mind that the statement was a lie, and that his wife was concerned in it.
'Is the major in Norfolk?' he asked, 'or is he near his daughter in London?'
'In Norfolk,' said Mr. Bashwood. Having answered Allan's look of inquiry, instead of Midwinter's spoken question, in those words, he hesitated, looked Midwinter in the face for the first time, and added, suddenly: 'I object, if you please, to be cross-examined, sir. I know what I have told Mr. Armadale, and I know no more.'
The words, and the voice in which they were spoken, were alike at variance with Mr. Bashwood's usual language and Mr. Bashwood's usual tone. There was a sullen depression in his face—there was a furtive distrust and dislike in his eyes when they looked at Midwinter, which Midwinter himself now noticed for the first time. Before he could answer the steward's extraordinary outbreak, Allan interfered.
'Don't think me impatient,' he said; 'but it's getting late; it's a long way to Hampstead. I'm afraid the Sanitarium will be shut up.'
Midwinter started. 'You are not going to the Sanitarium to-night!' he exclaimed.
Allan took his friend's hand and wrung it hard. 'If you were as fond of her as I am,' he whispered, 'you would take no rest, you could get no sleep, till you had seen the doctor, and heard the best and the worst he had to tell you. Poor dear little soul! who knows, if she could only see me alive and well—' The tears came into his eyes, and he turned away his head in silence.
Midwinter looked at the steward. 'Stand back,' he said. 'I want to speak to Mr. Armadale.' There was something in his eye which it was not safe to trifle with. Mr. Bashwood drew back out of hearing, but not out of sight. Midwinter laid his hand fondly on his friend's shoulder.
'Allan,' he said, 'I have reasons—' He stopped. Could the reasons be given before he had fairly realized them himself; at that time, too, and under those circumstances? Impossible! 'I have reasons,' he resumed, 'for advising you not to believe too readily what Mr. Bashwood may say. Don't tell him this, but take the warning.'
Allan looked at his friend in astonishment. 'It was you who always liked Mr. Bashwood!' he exclaimed. 'It was you who trusted him, when he first came to the great house!'
'Perhaps I was wrong, Allan, and perhaps you were right. Will you only wait till we can telegraph to Major Milroy and get his answer? Will you only wait over the night?'
'I shall go mad if I wait over the night,' said Allan. 'You have made me more anxious than I was before. If I am not to speak about it to Bashwood, I must and will go to the Sanitarium, and find out whether she is or is not there, from the doctor himself.'
Midwinter saw that it was useless. In Allan's interests there was only one other course left to take. 'Will you let me go with you?' he asked.
Allan's face brightened for the first time. 'You dear, good fellow!' he exclaimed. 'It was the very thing I was going to beg of you myself.'
Midwinter beckoned to the steward. 'Mr. Armadale is going to the Sanitarium,' he said, 'and I mean to accompany him. Get a cab and come with us.'
He waited, to see whether Mr. Bashwood would comply. Having been strictly ordered, when Allan did arrive, not to lose sight of him, and having, in his own interests, Midwinter's unexpected appearance to explain to Miss Gwilt, the steward had no choice but to comply. In sullen submission he did as he had been told. The keys of Allan's baggage was given to the foreign traveling servant whom he had brought with him, and the man was instructed to wait his master's orders at the terminus hotel. In a minute more the cab was on its way out of the station—with Midwinter and Allan inside, and Mr. Bashwood by the driver on the box.
Between eleven and twelve o'clock that night, Miss Gwilt, standing alone at the window which lit the corridor of the Sanitarium on the second floor, heard the roll of wheels coming toward her. The sound, gathering rapidly in volume through the silence of the lonely neighborhood, stopped at the iron gates. In another minute she saw the cab draw up beneath her, at the house door.
