Two days after the fire Silas received a summons from Lady Malleson, a
summons that he had been expecting because he knew Malleson was away. It
was brought to him not by Hambley as usual (that was scarcely
surprising), but by Emma, Lady Malleson’s maid. Would he come
immediately? she, Emma, was to bring him back. “I’ll wait for you, Mr.
Dene; you’ll be wanting to brush up a bit,” she said, looking at his
dirty hands and untidy hair, but he scoffed at the suggestion and said
that they should start at once.
In his impatience he forced the maid to a great pace, dragging her along
rather than allowing her to lead him. She kept exclaiming that he would
stumble over roots and rabbit-holes as they crossed the park, but he
brushed her caution aside. “You’re very particular not to keep her
ladyship waiting,” said she meaningly, not appreciating this walk with
blind Dene, of whom so many strange tales were told. Little Hambley had
been seen that morning up at Malleson Place, scowling and limping in the
stable-yard, and the grooms with much relish had said that Silas Dene
had given him a thorough thrashing. Little Hambley had, of course, not
owned to it. He had snapped viciously in reply to their chaff. Emma
longed to ask Silas whether the story was true, but as no one ever asked
questions of Silas, she, like many others, held her tongue.