They had gone up stairs into the smoking-room when a card was brought to Lavender. "Young Mosenberg is below," he said to Ingram. "He will be a livelier companion for you than I could be. Waiter, ask this gentleman to come up." The handsome Jew-boy came eagerly into the room, with much excitement visible on his face. "Oh, do you know," he said to Lavender, "I have found out where Mrs. Lavender is--yes? She is at your aunt's house. I saw her this afternoon for one moment--" He stopped, for he saw by the vexation on Ingram's face that he had done something wrong. "Is it a mistake?" he said. "Is it a secret?" "It is not likely to be a secret if you have got hold of it," said Ingram sharply. "I am very sorry," said the boy. "I thought you were all anxious to know--" "It does not matter in the least," said Lavender quietly to both of them. "I shall not seek to disturb her. I am about to leave London." "Where are you going?" said the boy. "I don't know yet." That, at least, had been part of the result of his meditations; and Ingram, looking at him, wondered whether he meant to go away without trying to say one word to Sheila. "Look here, Lavender," he said, "you must not fancy we were trying to play any useless and impertinent trick. To-morrow or next day Sheila will leave your aunt's house, and then I should have told you that she had been there, and how the old lady received her. It was Sheila's own wish that the lodgings she is going to should not be known. She fancies that would save both of you a great deal of unnecessary and fruitless pain, do you see? That really is her only object in wishing to have any concealment about the matter." "But there is no need for any such concealment," he said. "You may tell Sheila that if she likes to stay on with my aunt, so much the better; and I take it very kind of her that she went there, instead of going home or to a strange house." "Am I to tell her that you mean to leave London?" "Yes." They went into the billiard-room. Mosenberg was not permitted to play, as he had not dined in the club, but Ingram and Lavender proceeded to have a game, the former being content to accept something like thirty in a hundred. It was speedily very clear that Lavender's heart was not in the contest. He kept forgetting which ball he had been playing, missing easy shots, playing a perversely wrong game, and so forth. And yet his spirits were not much downcast. "Is Peter Hewetson still at Tarbert, do you know?" he asked of Ingram. "I believe so. I heard of him lately. He and one or two more are there." "I suppose you'll look in on them if you go North?" "Certainly. The place is badly perfumed, but picturesque, and there is generally plenty of whisky about." "When do you go North?" "I don't know. In a week or two."