Yours sincerely, LAURA ASHTON."
Micky glanced quickly at the address at the top of the paper--it was from Raymond"s mother.
What in the world could she want with him, he wondered blankly. He looked across at Driver.
"This note--the one that came by hand--when did it come?" he asked.
Driver replied that it had been there for two days. He waited a moment, then went on brushing Micky"s coat.
Micky felt rather disturbed.
Raymond"s mother! What in the wide world could she want with him?
Supposing it were anything to do with Esther ...
He wrote a note in reply at once and said he would call the following afternoon; he could just look in early for half an hour and go on afterwards to meet Marie; it was strange how he dreaded both these appointments.
He felt ridiculously nervous when he reached Mrs. Ashton"s house. For the first time it occurred to him that possibly Esther would be here too.
He was kept waiting some minutes in the drawing room--minutes during which he wandered restlessly about staring at the pictures and the photographs.
There were many portraits of Raymond--Raymond at all stages of his chequered career, smiling and handsome. Micky turned his back on them with a feeling of disgust.
The door opened behind him, and, turning sharply, he found himself face to face with Mrs. Ashton.
She came forward with outstretched hand.
"This is kind of you, Mr. Mellowes. I did not know you had been away till I got your note this morning. I was wondering why I had had no reply to mine."
Micky blurted out that he had been in Paris--that he only came back yesterday evening.
Mrs. Ashton"s face changed a little.
"Paris! Have you been with that son of mine?" she asked sharply.
Micky coloured. "I met him--quite by chance, though. We were not together more than a few minutes."
She smiled rather ironically.
"Have you got tired of him at last, then?" she asked. She moved over to the fire. She looked back at Micky quizzically. "I have often wondered how you put up with his friendship so long, Mr. Mellowes,"
she added rather sadly.
Micky felt embarra.s.sed. He had always liked Mrs. Ashton. He stammered out that he and Raymond had always been very good friends.
She drew her chair a little closer to the fire.
"Very well--then, perhaps, you will be kind enough to answer a question I am going to ask you. Mr. Mellowes, what was the name of that girl at Eldred"s whom Raymond was always about with before Christmas?"
The question was so unexpected that Micky was utterly taken aback.
Before he was aware of it he had told a lie.
"I don"t know--at least, he always spoke of her as "Lallie." I never once saw him with her, Mrs. Ashton--he never introduced me to her."
She looked rather incredulous.
"And yet you were such friends," she said.
Micky coloured.
"Our tastes were not always identical," he said rather stiffly. "I am not very interested in women, and he----"
"And he is," she finished for him. "There is no need to tell me that--I know my son. So you cannot tell me the name of this girl? I had hoped that you would be able to do so."
Micky met her eyes unflinchingly.
"I dare say I could find out," he said. "If she is still at Eldred"s."
"She is not there." Mrs. Ashton looked up at Micky with an anxious line between her handsome eyes. "Mr. Mellowes, I have always prided myself on my sense of justice, and somehow lately I have got an uncomfortable feeling that when I forbade Raymond to have anything more to do with that girl it would have been better if I had advised her to have nothing more to do with him. He is my son, and perhaps it seems strange for me to speak about him like that, but you cannot have been friends with him all these months without finding him out, so I need not apologise. Raymond is just his father over again...." She paused, and a painful little smile curved her lips.
She looked at Micky rather pathetically. "There is no need for me to say any more, is there?" she asked.
Micky did not answer. He had heard many stories about Raymond"s father, all more or less unsavoury, and he knew that from all accounts Mrs. Ashton had been greatly to be pitied during his lifetime.
"So if you can"t help me in this," she went on presently, "I am afraid I have brought you here for nothing. I want to find out who this girl is, and see her for myself." She paused, but Micky"s face was inscrutable.
In his heart he was convinced that she did not believe him, but he had no intention of telling her Esther"s name; he longed to know if Esther were in the house, but, of course, it was impossible to ask.
It almost seemed as if Mrs. Ashton could read his thoughts, for she said suddenly--
"Do you know, Mr. Mellowes, that I am going to have a companion?"
Micky echoed her last word vacantly.
"Companion?--I--er...."
"Yes, a girl," Mrs. Ashton went on; "I have always envied people with daughters; a daughter is so much more to a mother than a son; but as I was not fortunate enough to have one of my own I am going to try having a companion. Raymond will be annoyed, I dare say--he has always pooh-poohed the idea when I have mentioned it to him, but now----" she shrugged her shoulders and sighed impatiently. "Well, he can no longer object, I think, seeing that he is to be married himself...."
Micky made a little quick movement, almost knocking over a vase of flowers standing at his elbow; he recovered himself with an effort.
"Married?" he said. "Why, I thought...." he broke off. "He did not say anything about it to me when I met him in Paris," he said lamely.
"No?" Her handsome eyes searched his agitated face critically. "Well, he is to be married all the same," she said. "I heard from him only this morning. He is engaged to Tom Clare"s widow--Tubby Clare, I believe he was always called."
CHAPTER XVI
When Micky left Mrs. Ashton he raced off to meet Marie.