At nine o'clock Captain Hampton called at Chester Square and was shown
into the drawing-room, from which, as previously arranged, Mr. Hawtrey
had dismissed Mrs. Daintree, telling her that he had some private
matters to discuss with Ned Hampton.
Mrs. Daintree had retired tearfully, saying that for her part she
preferred hearing nothing about this painful matter--meaning that of the
letters, for she was ignorant of the later development.
Dorothy looked flushed and feverish. Her eyes were large and brilliant,
and there was a restlessness in her manner as she shook hands with her
old friend.
'Well, Ned,' she asked, with an attempt at playfulness, 'what is your
verdict--guilty or not guilty?'
'You need not ask me, Dorothy. Even the evidence of my own eyes would
scarcely avail to convince me against your word.' Then he turned to her
father. 'I have done nothing but think the matter over since you left
me, and I can see but one solution--an utterly improbable one, I
admit--but I will not tell you what it is until I have spoken to Miss
Hawtrey. Would you mind my putting a question or two to her alone?'
'Certainly not, Ned,' said Mr. Hawtrey, rising.
But Dorothy exclaimed: 'No, no, father, I will not have it so. I don't
know what Captain Hampton is going to ask me, but nothing that he can
ask me nor my answers could I wish you not to hear. Please sit down
again. There shall be no mysteries between us, at any rate.'
'Perhaps it is best so,' Captain Hampton agreed, though he felt the ring
of pain in the girl's voice at what she believed to be a sign that he
doubted her. 'I am willing, as I said just now, to disbelieve the
evidence of my own eyes on your word. I am determined to believe you
innocent. It is impossible for me to do otherwise. But there is one
matter I want cleared up. On the fifteenth of last month--that is the
day on which these things were missed--I saw a lady so exactly like you
in face and in dress that I should under any other circumstances be
prepared to swear to her, speaking to the man Truscott, in the Liverpool
Road, Islington. This was at about half-past four in the afternoon.'
A look of blank wonderment passed across Dorothy's face as he spoke, and
then changed into one of indignation.
'I was never in Islington in my life, Captain Hampton; I never heard the
name of Liverpool Road that I know of. I have never seen this man,
Truscott, since that day at Epsom. And you have believed this? You
believe that I would meet this man alone, for the purpose, I suppose, of
bribing him to silence? I have been mistaken in you altogether, Captain
Hampton. I thought you were a friend.'
'Stop, Dorothy,' her father said, authoritatively, as with her head
erect she walked towards the door, 'you must listen to this; it is
altogether too important to be treated in this way. We must hear what
Captain Hampton really saw, and he will tell us why he did not mention
the fact to me before. Sit down, my dear. Now, Captain Hampton, please
tell it to us again.'
Ned Hampton repeated his story, and then went on,
'You know I went suddenly out of town, Mr. Hawtrey. That I had been
mistaken never once occurred to me. Up to that time I had never for an
instant doubted your daughter's assertions that she knew nothing as to
any letters in the possession of Truscott. That morning, as you may
remember, I mentioned before you the name of the place where he was to
be found, and when, as I thought, I saw her with him, it certainly
appeared to me possible that after the dread Miss Hawtrey expressed of
appearing in a public court to prosecute him, she might, in a moment of
weakness, have gone off to see the man, to warn him of the consequences
that would ensue if he continued to persecute her, and to tell him that
unless he moved he would in a few hours be in custody. I thought such an
action altogether foreign to her nature, but I own that it never for a
moment occurred to me to doubt the evidence of my own eyes, especially
as the person was dressed exactly as your daughter had been when I saw
her that morning. That the person I saw was not her I am now quite ready
to admit. In that case it is morally certain that the person who took
away those jewels was also not her; and this strengthens the idea I had
before conceived, and which seemed, as I told you, a most improbable
one, namely, that there is another person who so closely resembles your
daughter that she might be mistaken for her, and, if so, this person is
acting with the man Truscott. Should this conjecture be the true one it
explains what has hitherto been so mysterious. The letters were designed
to injure your daughter in public estimation, and to prepare the way for
this extraordinary robbery, which would enrich Truscott as well as
gratify his revenge. What do you think, Mr. Hawtrey?'
'The idea is too new for me to grasp it altogether, Ned. Until now there
seemed no possible explanation of the mystery. This, certainly, strange
and improbable as it is, does afford a solution.'
'Well, father, I will leave you to talk it over,' Dorothy said, rising
again, 'unless Captain Hampton has seen me anywhere else and wishes to
question me about that also. And I think, father, that it will be much
better in future to put the matter altogether into the hands of a
lawyer; it would be his business to do his best for me whether he
thought me innocent or guilty. At any rate, it is more pleasant to be
suspected by people you know nothing about, than by those you thought
were your friends.' Then without waiting for an answer she swept from
the room.
'No use stopping her now,' her father said, shrugging his shoulders; 'it
is not often that I have known Dorothy fairly out of temper from the
time she was a child, but when she is it is better to let her cool down
and come round of herself.'
'It will be a long time before she comes round as far as I am
concerned,' Captain Hampton said. 'I am not surprised that she should be
indignant that I should have suspected her for a moment, but I don't see
how I could have helped it. I saw her, or someone as much like her as if
it was herself in a looking-glass, talking to this man Truscott, the
very day when we had for the first time found out where we were likely
to lay hands on him. What could anyone suppose? I did not think for a
moment that she had done anything really wrong, or even, after what she
had said, that he could hold letters of any importance; but she had
evidently so great a dread of publicity that, as I say, it did strike me
she had gone to meet him in order to warn him, and perhaps to get back
any trumpery letters he might have had, stolen from her or from some one
else. I did think this up to the time when you told me of this affair at
the jeweller's. That seemed so utterly and wholly impossible that I
became convinced there must be some entirely different solution, if we
could but hit upon it, and the only idea that occurred to me was that of
there being some one else exactly like her, and that this person,
whoever she is, has been used by Truscott both to injure your daughter
and to obtain plunder.'
'I don't see how you could have helped suspecting as you did, when you
saw Truscott speaking with some one whom you did not doubt being
Dorothy. Had I been in your place and witnessed that meeting, it seems
to me that I must have doubted her myself. Though I am her father, I own
that I did doubt her for a moment this morning when I heard the story at
Gilliat's; but let us leave that alone for a moment, Ned; the pressing
question is, what am I to do?'
'I will give no opinion,' Captain Hampton said firmly; 'that must be a
question for you and Miss Hawtrey to decide. If my conjecture is right,
and this man, Truscott, and some woman closely resembling your daughter
are working to obtain plunder on the strength of that likeness, you may
be sure that this successful _coup_ they have made will only be the
first of a series. On the other hand, you have not a shadow of evidence
to adduce against Gilliat's claim; there is simply her assertion against
that of two or three other people, and if he sues you, as, of course, he
will if you do not pay, it seems to me certain that a jury would give
the verdict against you--unless, of course, we can put this other woman
and Truscott into the dock. Should such a verdict be given, although
some might have their doubts as to this extraordinary story, the public
in general would conclude that Miss Hawtrey was a thief and a liar.
There is no doubt that your daughter's advice is the one to be followed,
and if I were you I would go to Charles Levine, the first thing in the
morning, lay the whole case before him, and put yourself in his hands.'
'I will do so, Ned. Should I mention to him that you saw her, as you
thought, with Truscott?'
'That must be as you think fit, sir. I don't think I should do so unless
it were absolutely necessary. He does not know your daughter as we do,
and would infallibly put the worst construction upon it. I should
confine myself to the story of the letters and the jewels, stating that
you believe there is a connection between them, and that, as you
implicitly believe Miss Hawtrey's word, the only conclusion you can
possibly come to is that the person who visited Gilliat's was some
adventuress bearing a strong resemblance to her, and trading on that
resemblance.'
'But how about the dress, Ned?'
'If it was, as I take it, a preconceived plot, carefully prepared, one
can readily conceive that Miss Hawtrey's movements had been watched and
that a dress and bonnet closely resembling hers had been got in
readiness.'
'It is an ugly business, Ned,' Mr. Hawtrey said, irritably. 'You and I
believe Dorothy to be innocent, but the more one looks at it the more
one sees how difficult it will be to persuade other people that she is
so. However, I will see Levine in the morning. He has had more difficult
cases in his hands than any man living.'
'That is the best thing you can do, sir. Now I will say good-night. You
know where I am to be found, and I must ask you to write to me there and
make an appointment for me to meet you if you want to see me. I shall
still do what I can in the matter, and shall spare no efforts to
endeavour to trace this man Truscott, and if I can find him it is
probable that I shall be able to find the woman; but please do not let
Miss Hawtrey know that I am taking any further part in the matter. She
is deeply offended with me, and from her point of view this is perfectly
natural. She thinks I ought to have trusted her and believed in her in
spite of any evidence whatever, even that of my own eyes, and she is
naturally extremely sore that one whom she regarded as a close friend
should not have done so. I regret it deeply myself, but seeing what I
saw----'
'You could not help doing so, Ned,' Mr. Hawtrey broke in warmly; 'as I
told you I should have doubted her myself. Do not worry yourself about
that. When she thinks it over she will see that you were in no way to
blame.'
'That will be a long time first,' Captain Hampton said, gravely;
'situated as she is, and harassed as she has been, it is very difficult
to forgive a want of trust on the part of those in whose faith and
support you had implicit confidence. I shall be very glad if you will
let me know what Levine advises.'
'That I will certainly do. I will write to you after I have seen him and
had a talk with Dorothy. There is the affair with Halliburn, which
complicates the whole question confoundedly. I wish to goodness he would
start for a trip to China and not come back until it is all over. It is
lucky that that they have got a serious debate on to-night in the Upper
House, and that he was, as he told us when he called this afternoon,
unable to go to the Alberys; if it hadn't been so he would have been
here by this time, to inquire what had occurred to make us send our
excuses at the last moment. He will be round here the first thing after
breakfast. Well, good night, Ned, if you must be going.'
On reaching his lodgings Captain Hampton found a boy sitting on the
doorstep.
'Halloa,' he said, 'who are you? Out of luck, and want something to get
supper with, I suppose?'
'I wanted to speak to you, Captain,' the boy said, standing up.
'Why, you are the boy from Slippen's; have you got any news for me?'
'No, Captain, I ain't come on his account, I have come on my own. I have
left Slippen for good.'
'Well, come up stairs; we can't talk at the door. Now what is it?' he
asked, as he sat down.
'Well, sir, it is just this: I have left Slippen. You see, it was this
way: I was a-watching a female party and she wur a good sort. I got up
as a crossing sweeper, and she never went across without giving me a
penny and speaking kind like, and one day she sent me out a plate of
victuals; so I didn't much like the job, and when Slippen wanted me to
say I had seen a bit more than I had, I up and told him as I wasn't
going to. Then he gave me a cuff on the head and I gave him some cheek,
and he told me to take myself out of it and never let him see my face
again, so you see here I am.'
'I see you are. But why are you here?'
'Well, you see, Captain, you allus spoke nice to me over there, and I
says to myself, "If I was ever to leave the governor, that is just the
sort of gent as I should like to work for." I can clean boots with any
one, and I could run errands, and do all sorts of odd jobs, and if you
still want to find that chap I was after I would hunt him up for you all
over London.'
'You are quite sure, Jacob, that you have done with Mr. Slippen? I
should not like him to think that I had taken you away from him.'
'I ain't a-going back to him no ways,' the boy said, positively, 'not
even if he would have me; and after what I said to him he would not do
that. He called me a blooming young vaggerbond, and I says to him,
"Vaggerbond yourself, ain't you wanting to make up false evidence agin a
female? You are worse nor a vaggerbond," says I. "You are just the worst
kind of a spy," says I, "and a liar at that." Then I had to make a bolt
for it, and he arter me, and he run nigh fifty yards before he stopped;
that is enough to show how mad he wor over it. First of all I thinks as
I would go to the Garden, and take to odd jobs and sleeping under the
waggons, as I used to do afore I took up with him. Then I says to
myself, "There is that Captain Hampton; he is a nice sort of gent. I
could get along first-rate with him if he would have me."'
'But those clothes you have got on, Jacob; I suppose Slippen gave you
those?'
'Not he; Slippen ain't that sort; he got the clothes for me, and says
he, "These 'ere clothes cost twenty-two bob. I intend to give you
half-a-crown a week, and," says he, "I shall stop a bob a week for your
clothes." I have been with him about half a year, so we are square as to
the things.'
'But how did you live on eighteenpence a week?'
'I got a bob now and then from people who came to Slippen. When they
knew as I was doing the watching for them they would tip me, so as to
give me a h'interest in the case, as they said. I used to reckon on
making two bob a week that way, so with Slippen's eighteenpence, I had
sixpence a day for grub. I have got my old things wrapped up in the
cupboard. I used to use them mostly when I went out watching. I can get
them any time; I have got the key. I used to have to let myself in and
out, so I have only got to watch till I see him go out, and then go in
and get my things, and I can leave the key on the table when I come
out.'
Captain Hampton looked at the boy for some time in silence; it really
seemed a stroke of good luck that had thrown him in his way. There was
no doubt of his shrewdness; he was honest so far as his ideas of honesty
went. He wished to serve him, and would probably be faithful. He himself
felt altogether at sea as to how to set about the quest for this man and
the unknown woman who must be his associate. Even if the boy could be of
no material assistance, he would have him to talk to, and there was no
one else to whom he could say anything on the subject.
'Well, Jacob,' he said at last, 'I am disposed to give you a trial.'
'Thank you, Captain,' the lad said gratefully. 'I will do my best for
you, sir, whatever you tell me. I knows as I ain't much good to a gent
like you, but I will try hard, sir, I will indeed.'
'And now what am I to do with you?' Captain Hampton went on. 'I am sure
my landlady would not like to have you down in the kitchen, so for the
present you had better get your meals outside.'
'That is all right, Captain. I can take my grub anywhere.'
'Very well, then, I will give you two shillings a day for food; that
will be sixpence for breakfast and tea and a shilling for dinner. I
suppose you could manage on that.'
'Why, it would be just a-robbing of you,' the boy said, indignantly. 'I
can get a breakfast of a big cup of tea and a whopping piece of cake for
twopence at a coffee-stall, and the same at night, that is fourpence,
and for fourpence more I can get a regular blow out: threeha'porth of
bread and two saveloys for dinner. I could do first-rate on eightpence.'
'That is all nonsense, Jacob. If you are coming to be my servant you
must live decently. I daresay if you had a place where you could see to
your own food you might do it cheaper, but having to pay for things at a
coffee-shop, two shillings a day would be a fair sum. As I don't want
you to do anything for me in the house at present I do not see that it
will be of any use getting you livery, so we won't talk about that now.
You will most likely want another suit of clothes of some sort while
going about to look for this man, whom I still want to find. As for your
lodgings, I will see if there is a room vacant upstairs; if not, you
must get a bed out.'
He rang the bell, and his landlord, who acted as valet to his lodgers,
appeared.
'Richardson, I have engaged this boy to run errands for me. I do not
want him to interfere in the house, and have arranged about his board,
as no doubt you would find him in the way downstairs; but if you have an
attic empty I should like to arrange for his sleeping here.'
'I could arrange that, sir. I have a small room at the top of the house
empty; I would let it at four shillings a week.'
'Very well then. He will sleep here to-night.'
'Perhaps he will step up with me and I will show it to him, sir.'
Hampton nodded, and the boy followed the man out of the room. He
returned in a couple of minutes.
'That will do, I suppose, Jacob?'
'It just will do,' the boy said; 'it is too good for a chap like me. The
bed is too clean to sleep in: I would a sight rather lie down on the mat
there, sir.'
'That won't do at all, Jacob. You must get into clean and tidy ways if
you are to be with me. To-morrow morning I will give you some money, and
you must go out and get yourself a stock of underlinen--shirts, and
drawers, and stockings, and that sort of thing, and another pair or two
of shoes. And now it is getting late and you had better go off to bed.
Give yourself a thorough good wash all over before you turn in, and
again in the morning. Here are two shillings for your food to-morrow. Be
here at nine o'clock and then we will talk things over. Here is another
half-crown to get yourself a comb and brush.'
The next morning the boy presented himself looking clean and tidy.
'In the first place here is a list, Jacob, of the things you must get,
or rather that I will get for you, for I will go out with you and buy
them. And now about your work. I still want to find this man. Did you
discover what name he was known by at his lodging?'
'He was known there as Cooper, Captain, I got that out of the servant
girl, but lord bless you a name don't go for anything with these chaps.
No, he may call hisself something else at the next place he goes to.'
'You learnt he went away in a cab?'
The lad nodded.
'The first thing to do is to find that cab. It may have been taken from
a stand near; it may have been one he hailed passing along the road. How
would you set about that?'
'Offer a reward,' the boy replied promptly. 'Get a thing printed and I
will leave it at all the stands in that part.'
'Yes, that will be a good way.' Captain Hampton wrote a line or two on a
piece of paper. It was headed--A Reward.--The cabman who took a man with
several boxes from----'What is the address, Jacob, where the man
lodged?'
'Twelve, Hawthorn Street.'
'From Hawthorn Street, Islington, on the evening of the 15th July, can
earn one pound by calling upon Captain Hampton, 150 Jermyn Street.'
'That will do it,' the boy said, as the advertisement was read out.
'Well, I will get a hundred of these struck off at once, then you can
set to work.'
Having gone to a printer's and ordered the handbills, which were to be
ready in an hour, Captain Hampton went with the boy and bought his
clothes.
'Now, Jacob, you will go back to the printer's in an hour's time and
wait until you get the handbills. Here are five shillings to pay for
them; then take a 'bus at the Circus for Islington and distribute the
handbills at all the cab stands in the neighbourhood. I shan't want you
any more to-day, but if I am at home when you come in you can let me
know how you have got on. Be in by half-past nine always. You had better
go on at your night school; you have nothing to do after dark and there
is nowhere for you to sit here. There is no reason why you should not go
on working there as usual.'
'All right, Captain; if you says so in course I will go, but I hates it
worse nor poison.'
On his return Captain Hampton read the paper and wrote some letters, and
was just starting to go out to lunch when Mr. Hawtrey was shown in.
'I am very glad I have caught you, Ned; I meant to tell you I would come
round after seeing Levine. This business will worry me into my grave.
This morning Dorothy declared that the thing must be fought out. Her
objection to going into court has quite vanished. She says that it is
the only chance there is of getting to the bottom of things, and that if
that is not done we must go away to China or Siberia, or some
out-of-the-way place where no one will know her. Then I went to Levine.
Danvers called for me and took me there. I wrote to him last night and
asked him to do so. Nothing could have been more polite than Levine's
manner--I should say he would be a charming fellow at a dinner table. I
went into the whole thing with him, he took notes while I was talking,
and asked a question now and then; of course, I told him our last
notion, that there must be somebody about exactly like Dorothy in face
and figure. "And dress, too?" he asked, with a little sort of emphasis.
"Yes, and dress too," I said. When I had done he simply said that it was
a singular case, which I could have told him well enough, and that he
should like to take a little time to think it over. His present idea was
that I had best pay the money. I told him that I did not care a rap
about the money, but that if this thing got about, the fact that I had
compromised it would be altogether ruinous to my daughter. He said, "I
think you can rely upon it that Gilliat will preserve an absolute
silence. I can assure you that jewellers get to know a great many
curious family histories, and it is part of their business to be
discreet." "Yes," I said, "but don't you see if, as I believe, this
fellow Truscott got up the first persecution purely to revenge what he
believes is a grievance against me--if that is so, and if he has any
connection with this second business, you may be sure that somehow or
other he will get something nasty about it put in one of these gutter
journals." That silenced him, and he again said he would think it over.
When I got up to go he asked Danvers to wait a few minutes, as he took
it that if the matter went into court he would, as a matter of course,
be retained on our side. So I came away by myself and drove here. The
worst of it is, I believe that the man thinks that Dorothy did it. Of
course, as he does not know her he is not altogether to be blamed, but
it is deucedly annoying to have to do with a man who evidently thinks
your daughter is a thief.'
'Did he say anything as to our idea that some one else must have
represented her?'
'Not a single word; he listened attentively while I told him, but he
made no remarks whatever about it.'
After the doors of Mr. Levine's office had closed behind Mr. Hawtrey,
the solicitor leant back in his chair and looked at Danvers with raised
eyebrows.
'You have heard the story before, I suppose?' he asked.
'I heard about the first business, but not about this matter of the
jewels; except that he gave me a slight outline as we drove here this
morning. It is a curious business.'
'It is a very unpleasant business, but scarcely a curious one,' the
lawyer said, with a grave smile. 'I have heard so many bits of queer
family history, that I scarcely look at anything that way now as
curious. You would be astonished, simply astonished, did you know how
often things of this kind occur.'
'Then you think that Miss Hawtrey took the jewels?'
Mr. Levine's eyebrows went up again in surprise at the question. 'My
impression so far is,' he said, 'as between solicitor and counsel, that
there is not the slightest doubt in the world about it. The girl had got
into some bad sort of scrape; some blackguard had got her under his
thumb. She had a good marriage on hand; it was absolutely necessary to
shut the fellow's mouth. A largish sum was wanted, and she dared not ask
her father, so she played a bold stroke--a wonderfully bold stroke I
must say--relying upon brazening it out and getting her father to
believe--as she evidently has succeeded in doing--that there is a double
of herself somewhere about, who represented her. All the first part of
the case is a comparatively ordinary one. This is curious, even to
me--in its daring audacity, it is really magnificent. Of course, her
father must pay the money; to defend it would be to ruin her utterly. Do
you mean to say you don't agree with me?'
'I hardly know what to think,' Danvers said, doubtfully. 'I know Miss
Hawtrey intimately, and have done so for some years, and in spite of the
apparent impossibility of her innocence, I own that I cannot bring
myself to believe in her guilt. She is one of the brightest, frankest,
and most natural girls I know.'
The lawyer looked at him with a smile of almost pity.
'You surprise me, sir. My experience is that in the majority of cases of
this kind it is just the very last girl one would suspect who goes
wrong. Why, my dear sir, if we were to set up such a ridiculous defence
as this in an action to recover the price of the jewels, we should
simply be laughed out of court.'
'Mr. Hawtrey tells me that his daughter is most anxious that he should
defend the case.'
Again the eyebrows went up.
'Of course she would say so. She must know well enough that, whether her
father put himself into my hands or any one else's, the advice would be
the same: Pay the money; you have no shadow of a chance of getting a
verdict, and to bring it into court would utterly ruin your daughter's
prospects. Of course, it is her cue to appear anxious for a trial,
knowing perfectly well that such a thing is out of the question.'
'I think you might alter your opinion if you saw her.'
'I certainly should be glad to see her,' Charles Levine said. 'I admire
talent, and she must be amazingly clever. I have a great respect for
audacity, and I never heard in all my experience of a more brilliant
piece of boldness than this. She must be a great actress, too; of the
highest order. Altogether I should be very glad to see her. She deserves
to succeed, and as there is no doubt that you and I will be able to
persuade her father that there is nothing for it but to pay the money. I
think her success is pretty well assured.'
'I agree with you that this money must be paid, but I am not prepared to
go further yet.'
'My dear sir,' the lawyer said, 'you confirm the opinion I have always
held, that the judgment of no man under fifty is worth a penny where a
young and pretty woman is concerned. Mind, there are many men, perhaps
the majority, who cannot be trusted in such a matter up to any time of
life, but up to fifty the rule is almost universal.'
'I am glad to hear it,' Danvers said, 'for in that case your own
judgment cannot be accepted as final.'
'I rather expected that, Mr. Danvers, but you must remember that in
matters of this kind I have had more experience than a dozen ordinary
men of the age of eighty. Now, I really cannot spare any more time. I
have given your client a good two hours, and my waiting-room must be
full of angry men. I shall write to Mr. Hawtrey to-morrow to say that
upon thinking the matter well over my first impressions are more than
confirmed, and that I am of opinion that no jury in the world would give
him a verdict, and that it would be nothing short of insanity to go into
Court. I shall mention, of course, that I am much struck with his theory
of the affair, which indeed appears to me to furnish the only complete
explanation of the matter, but that in the absence of a single
confirmatory piece of evidence it would be hopeless for the most
eloquent counsel to attempt to persuade twelve British jurymen to
entertain the theory. I think it would be as well if you were to call on
him this evening or to-morrow morning and shew him that your view agrees
with mine. That much you can honestly say, can you not?'
'Certainly. However difficult I may find it to persuade myself that Miss
Hawtrey is in any way the woman you picture her, I am as convinced as
you are that it is absolutely necessary that the money should be paid.'
On Mr. Hawtrey reaching his home he found Mrs. Daintree upon the sofa in
tears, while Dorothy, with a book in her hand, was sitting with an
unconcerned expression a short distance from her.
'What is the matter now?' he asked testily. 'Upon my word I believe my
annoyances would have upset Job.'
'Would you believe it? Cousin Dorothy has just declared to me her
intention of writing to Lord Halliburn to break off the match.'
Mr. Hawtrey did not explode as his cousin had expected that he would do.
'It is not a step to be taken hastily,' he said, gravely, 'but it is one
upon which Dorothy herself is the best judge. You have not written yet,
child?'
'No, father. I should not think of doing so without telling you first. I
have, of course, been thinking a good deal about it, and it certainly
seems to me that it would be best.'
'Well, a few hours will make no difference. The idea is at present new
to me: I will think it over quietly this afternoon, and this evening we
will talk it over together.'
'It would be nothing short of madness for her to do so,' Mrs. Daintree
said, roused to a state of real anger by Mr. Hawtrey's defection, when
she had implicitly relied upon his authority being exerted to prevent
Dorothy from carrying out her intention. 'It would be madness to break
off so excellent a match. It would make her the talk of the whole town,
and would seem to confirm all the wicked rumours that have been going
about.'
'As to the match, cousin, there are as good fish in the sea as ever came
out of it. As to the public talk, it is better to be talked about for a
week or two than to have a life's unhappiness. That is the sole point
with which I concern myself.'
Dorothy, with a softened face now, got up and kissed her father.
'That is right dear,' he said. 'Now let us put the matter aside for the
present. I have been busy all the morning and want my lunch badly; so
even if you are not hungry yourself, come down and keep me company.
Come, cousin, dry your eyes, and put your cap straight, and come down to
lunch.'
'Food would choke me,' Mrs. Daintree said; 'I have a dreadful headache,
and shall go and lie down.'