The breakfast was coming to an end, when Braintop’s name was sent in to Mrs. Chump.  She gave a cry of motherly compassion for Braintop, and began to relate the little deficiencies of his temper, while, as it were, simmering on her seat to go to him.  Wilfrid sent out word for him to appear, which he did, unluckily for himself, even as Mrs. Chump wound up the public description of his character by remarking:  “He’s just the opposite of a lord, now, in everything.”  Braintop stood bowing like the most faithful confirmation of an opinion ever seen.  He looked the victim of fatigue, in the bargain.  A light broke on Mrs. Chump.

“I’ll never forgive myself, ye poor gentle heart, to throw pens and pen-wipers at ye, that did your best, poor boy!  What have ye been doin’? and why didn’t ye return, and not go hoppin’ about about all night like a young kangaroo, as they say they do?  Have ye read the ’Arcana of Nature and Science,’ ma’am?”

The Hon. Mrs. Bayruffle, thus abruptly addressed, observed that she had not, and was it an amusing book?

“Becas it’ll open your mind,” pursued Mrs. Chump; “and there, he’s eatin’! and when a man takes to eatin’, ye’ll never have any fear about his abouts.  And if ye read the ‘Arcana of Nature and Science,’ ma’am, ye’ll first feel that ye’ve gone half mad.  For it contains averything in the world; and ye’ll read ut ten times all through, and not remember five lines runnin’!  Oh, it’s a dreadful book:  and that’s the book to read to your husband when he’s got a fit o’ the gout.  He’s got nothin’ to do but swallow knolludge then.  Now, Mr. Braintop, don’t stop, but tell me as ye go on what ye did with yourself all night.”

A slight hesitation in Braintop caused her to cross-examine him rigidly, suggesting that he might not dare to tell, and he, exercising some self-command, adopted narrative as the less ignominious form of confession.  No one save Mrs. Chump listened to him until he mentioned the name Miss Belloni; and then it was curious to see the steadiness with which certain eyes, feigning abstraction, fixed in his direction.  He had met Emilia on the outskirts of the town, and unable to persuade her to take shelter anywhere, had walked on with her in dead silence through the night, to the third station of the railway for London.

“Is this a mad person?” asked the Hon. Mrs. Bayruffle.

Adela shrugged.  “A genius.”

“Don’t eat with the tips of your teeth, like a bird, Mr. Braintop, for no company minds your eatin’,” cried Mrs. Chump, angrily and encouragingly; “and this little Belloni—­my belief is that she came after you; and what have ye done with her?”