Then she set forth, and hurried along the dark road.

CHAPTER XXV

Only one vehicle passed her before she came within sight of the streets; it was a carriage and pair, and she recognised the coachman of a family who lived towards Rickstead.  Quarrier was doubtless still in the town, but to find him might be difficult.  Perhaps she had better go to his house and despatch a servant in search of him.  But that was away on the other side of Polterham, and in the meantime he might be starting for Pear-tree Cottage.  The polling was long since over; would he linger with his friends at the committee room?

Yet she must go to the house first of all; there was a reason for it which only now occurred to her.

The main thoroughfares, usually silent and forsaken at this hour, were alive with streams of pedestrians, with groups of argumentative electors, with noisy troops of lads and girls who occasionally amused themselves with throwing mud at some unpopular person, or even breaking a window and rushing off with yells into the darkness of byways.  Public-houses were doing a brisk trade, not without pugilism for the entertainment of such as lounged about the doors.  For these sights and sounds Mrs. Wade had no attention, but frequently her ear was smitten with the name “Quarrier,” spoken or roared by partisan or adversary.  Her way led her through the open place where stood the Town Hall; here had gathered some hundreds of people, waiting for the result of the poll.  As she hurried along the ragged edge of the crowd, a voice from somewhere close at hand checked her.

“If you imagine that Quarrier will do more for the people than any other politician, you will find yourselves mistaken.  Party politics are no good—­no good at all.  You working men ought to have the sense to form a party of your own.”

It was Northway, addressing a cluster of mill-hands, and evidently posing as one of a superior class who deigned to give them disinterested advice.  She listened for a minute longer, but heard nothing that could excite her alarm.

When she reached the house it was a quarter to ten.  This part of the town lay in obscurity and quietness; not a shout sounded in her hearing.

Mr. Quarrier had not been at home since early in the afternoon.

“He must be found at once,” said Mrs. Wade, adding quickly, “I suppose Mrs. Quarrier hasn’t come?”

The servant gave a surprised negative.

“You must please send some one to find Mr. Quarrier, without a moment’s delay.  I will come in and wait.”

The coachman happened to be in the kitchen.  Mrs. Wade had him summoned, and despatched him for his master.  Though her limbs shook with fatigue, she could not remain seated for more than a few minutes at a time; she kept the drawing-room door open, and kept going out to listen.  Her suspense lasted for more than half an hour; then at length she heard a cab rattle up the drive, and in another moment Quarrier stood before her.  This was the second time within a few days that her face had been of ill omen to him; he frowned an anxious inquiry.