"From the fact that the bailiff was in possession it would appear that
he had preferred flight to facing his creditors," I said slowly. "Were
you aware that he was in debt?"
"Not in the least," she answered. "He has some property abroad, you
know."
"Where?"
"In France, I think. He never spoke of it to any one, although I knew
that the rent was remitted regularly by a draft on the Credit Lyonnais
in Pall Mall. I used to go there with him to receive the money. It was
quite a pile of banknotes each quarter."
"Then he could not really have been so badly off as he appeared?" I
observed.
"No. He was eccentric, and very miserly, and although he always had
enough and to spare he used constantly to deplore our poverty. I took a
situation merely to satisfy him, as he had so often expressed regret
that I should be idling at home. There was, however, absolutely no real
necessity."
"But surely," I said, "he has not intentionally left you alone in the
world? He will write very soon. Perhaps just now he does not write for
fear his whereabouts should become known. He's evidently escaped his
creditors. Has he been speculating, do you think?"
"Not that I am aware of."
"Can't you think of any reason why he should have fled so
precipitately?" I asked, at the same time reflecting that it might be
due to the fact that he had aroused the suspicions of the police by the
illegal sale of drugs.
"No," she answered. "None whatever, beyond what I've already explained.
His flight is an entire mystery, and it was to seek the advice of Dick,
as my closest friend, that I called here. How had I best act, do you
think?"
"I really don't know," I replied, after some reflection. "His
disappearance is certainly remarkable, but if he is in hiding, it is not
at all strange that he should omit to write to you. He knows your
address, therefore, when he deems it safe in his own interests to
communicate with you and explain, he will do so, no doubt."
"Then I'm to wait in patience and see our home sold up?" she asked,
tears again welling in her dark, luminous eyes.
"You can do nothing else," I said. "He evidently means that it should
be sold, for he has made no attempt to rescue it."
"There are so many of my poor mother's things there. I should so like
to keep them--her little trinkets and such trifles. It seems very hard
that they should be sold to a second-hand dealer."
"That's so, but you have no means of rescuing them," I pointed out. "It
is certainly very hard indeed for you to be left alone and friendless
like this, but without doubt your father has some reason in acting
thus."
"He's fled like some common thief," she cried, with a choking sob. "And
now I haven't a single friend."
"I am your friend," I said, echoing her sigh. "You have my sympathy,
Lily, and if I can render you any service I shall always be ready to do
so."
She thanked me warmly in a voice choked by sobs, for the two great
sorrows had fallen upon her, and she was overwhelmed and broken.
I promised I would speak to Dick, and if possible arrange a meeting
between them, in order to try and effect a reconciliation. Inwardly,
however, I knew that this was quite impossible, for he had really grown
tired of her, and had more than once in the past few days openly
congratulated himself upon his freedom. She remained a short time
longer, and before she left had become more composed and was in better
spirits.