And already the heat, as yesterday, was
formidable. But _she_ would not suffer to-day; she was not in Department
42.
He went further and further, aimlessly penetrating to the very heart of
the jungle of departments. He had glimpses of departments that he had
not seen for weeks. At length he came to the verdant and delicious
Flower Department (hot-house branch), and by chance he caught a word
which brought him to a standstill.
'What's that?' he asked sharply, of a salesman in white.
'Order for orange-blossom, sir. A single sprig only. Rather a curious
order, sir.'
'You can supply it?'
'Without doubt, sir.'
'Who is the customer?'
'Mr. Francis Tudor,' replied the salesman, looking at a paper. 'No. 7,
the Flats.'
'Ah yes,' he said; and thought: 'My life is over.'
He gazed with unseeing eyes into the green and shady recesses of the
palmarium, where water trickled and tinkled.
What was the power, the influence, the lever, which Francis Tudor was
using to induce Camilla to marry him--him whom, on her own statement,
she did not love? And could Louis Ravengar be in earnest, after all,
with his savage threats?
CHAPTER IX
'WHICH?'
'And when I decide, the thing is as good as done.' Those proud, vain
words of his, spoken to Louis Ravengar with all the arrogance of a man
who had never met Fate like a lion in the path, often recurred to Hugo's
mind during the next few weeks.
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