"Under the sad circumstances, I feel that any meeting between us would be improper-doubtless you will agree with me. I have accordingly made my arrangements to return at once to town, and by the time you receive this letter-assuming that you have made your promised visit to Worthing-I shall be already on my way back there.
"I think it will be wise if we allow a considerable time to elapse before attempting to see one another again. We have both, I am afraid, acted rather more impulsively than is altogether consistent with worldly prudence, and, to put it at the lowest, an interval for reflection and a cool weighing of the whole situation will certainly not harm either of us. You will understand, of course, that I blame myself far more than you for the unfortunate happenings of the past few days.
"I am leaving my town address with the hotel people should you desire to write me a line in reply. I do not ask it.
"I do not say adieu, for I sincerely hope that at some future time we shall see a great deal of each other.
"Believe me to be, my dear Miss Loment, your earnest friend and well-wisher.
"Henry Judge"
After flashing through the letter from beginning to end, to extract its message, Isbel allowed it to slip from her hand, while she sat back with close eyes…Then she picked it up again, and twice re-read it, word by word. During the perusal her bosom rose and sank the blood mounting to her face, and once or twice she laughed…
Crushing the sheets into her handbag, she closed it with an angry snap.
So that was over!…
The manager escorted her to the outer door. At the foot of the hotel steps she came to a standstill, not knowing in the least what to do, or where to go. She caught sight of an elegantly dressed lady, in expensive furs, who was in the act of entering a closed car not five yards away from where she was standing. The chauffeur wsa taking his final instructions, preparatory to assuming his seat. The lady's back was towards her, but somehow her figure struck a familiar chord.
"…But first of all, Runhill court," said the unknown, as she stooped to get in.
Isbel felt bemused. It was not the destination named which dismayed her faculties, and made her feel as though she were in a dream-though this destination was extraordinary enough, in all conscience-but the intonation with which the words were uttered. That sweet, sinking whisper belonged only to one person of her acquaintance, and she could not conceive a second voice like it in the world. It was Mrs. Richborough's…
As the car drove off she obtained a single rapid glimpse of the lady's face. Mrs. Richborough was dead, and therefore it could not be she; but, then, it must be her twin sister. The resemblance was absolutely uncanny…Well, it was not difficult to understand why a sister should be there at such a distressful time-but what in the world was she doing at Runhill? What possible interest could she have in that house? Evidently some mystery was afoot…Could it be that Judge had arranged a meeting with her there in order to talk over the affairs of her late sister? But what affairs could there be to discuss between them? And why select that out-of-the-way spot for the interview? What did it all mean?…
She turned to the smart-looking young hotel door-porter, who still stood gazing after the car. "Who is that lady?"
"Lady Brooke, miss."
"Is she in any way related to the late Mrs. Richborough, do you know?"
"I've never seen them together, miss, and I should say it's very unlikely. Lady Brooke is a very exclusive lady."
"She did tell the chauffeur Runhill Court, didn't she?"
"No, miss-Arundel," was the surprised answer.
Isbel was greatly perplexed, but thought it wise to ask no more questions about her. She inquired for, and was directed to the nearest hiring garage in the neighbourhood of the hotel.
It had entered her mind that she, too, must go to Runhill, though what she expected to accomplish by so doing, she had no idea…that the door-porter must have received certain instructions-or, perhaps he had mistaken the person she had referred to. She knew that it was either Mrs. Richborough or her twin-sister. And she knew that that woman had said "Runhill Court." It was absolutely necessary and important that she should follow her there, to see what was on foot…And, of course, Mr. Judge must be waiting for her there…and it was all lies! lies! lies!
She was lucky in getting a landaulette at once. Money was of no account to her, she agreed to the charge demanded without demur, and within five minutes was on her way.
The car was badly sprung, and jolted her abominably; the cushions stank of oil; her tooth started to ache again. Although it was not actually raining, the day was gloomy and forbidding, and everything seemed saturated with damp. Water dripped from the trees. The roads were greasy and they kept skidding. Not a single gleam of light sky promised better things. Isbel squeezed herself in a corner, and closed her eyes.
After passing Steyning, she roused herself. The chauffeur seemed an utter idiot-his work was in this part of the country, and yet he was forever pulling up to ask her for directions. She told him as well as she could…Would this terrible journey never come to an end?…
At last they reached the lane which ran past the lodge. Here the road forked. One lane went by the lodge; the other, which she did not know, appeared to skirt the western boundary of the estate, going due north somewhere. The chauffeur stopped the car once more at this fork, and Isbel was about to direct him to proceed straight forward when suddenly her eyes rested on a fashionably-dressed woman in furs, who ws walking quickly but delicately up the second lane, away from them. She was about twenty yards ahead, and was alone…it was she…So he had lied, that porter!…But, oh heavens! what an appalling resemblance to Mrs. Richborough. She could pick up that step out of a thousand others…Then she wasn't dead. The whole thing was a conspiracy, directed against her, Isbel. Judge had fallen a victim to that woman at last, and they were quietly putting her out of the way, as an inconvenient person. The hotel manager had been bribed. There was really nothing left to explain…
"You needn't come any further. I'm getting out." Isbel suited the action to the word.
The man looked dissatisfied. "Am I to wait?"
"No, you can go home. Do I pay you, or the garage?"
Being a casual hirer she had to pay him. She hurriedly gave him notes to cover the charge, and, without waiting for the change, or interesting herself in his further movements, at once turned her back on him and started quickly up the lane, round the bend of which the unknown woman had by this time vanished.
She reached the bend herself. The disagreeable noise of the departing car grew fainter and fainter as the distance increased between them, until finally she heard no sounds but those of nature. Everything around her was moist, dripping, and sullen…Mrs. Richborough-for she had now no doubt that it was she-was still a considerable distance in front. They were both walking swiftly, so there was no question of catching her up. Isbel did not quite understand where she was going to, but probably there was another way into the grounds from this side, which would obviate the necessity of passing through the lodge-gate…But, if so, how had that woman come to know of it? And, by the way, where had her car disappeared to?…Isbel asked herself many questions during that period, but she was unable to answer any one of them.
The whole right-hand side of the lane was bordered by an ancient, red-brick wall which bounded the estate. Beyond it was a park, looking grey and disconsolate enough on such a day as this; the wet grass was knee-high, and every faintest breath of wind brought water off the brown-leaved trees. The park sloped downhill from the lane at first, but presently it became level. A dark grey shadowy mass on the forward right was probably the house itself; very likely it was not so far away as it looked, but the light was so bad…Suddenly half-way along a straight stretch of lane, her quarry vanished…