Part 52 (1/2)
”They deserved it,” Lance answered in a curious tone. ”It seems she got into difficulties with the police and had to leave the town; the clairvoyante business was only a blind, and somebody was robbed after gambling at her rooms. The men who made the plot took a shabby advantage of the situation.”
”Do you know their names?”
”Yes,” said Lance, hesitatingly. ”If you don't mind, sir, I'd rather not mention them.”
Mowbray looked at him keenly, and then made a sign of stern agreement.
”Perhaps that's best.” He was silent for a few moments, grappling with this new pain that seared him to the heart. So Gerald had sunk to this!
”Leave the paper here, and send Beatrice to me,” he said slowly.
Lance was glad to escape. He found Beatrice with her mother, and she and Mrs. Mowbray went at once to the Colonel's study.
”Your brother took some trouble to get this for you,” Mowbray said, handing her the statement, which she read in silence.
”I will thank Lance; but this note really makes no difference,” she declared.
”That's hard to understand.”
”I had Craig's word. If I had doubted him, would I have believed this woman? But there's another matter I want to speak of. Craig didn't want me to, but he gave me permission.”
Taking out the photographs Harding had shown her, she handed them to Mowbray. Mrs. Mowbray, looking over his shoulder, uttered an exclamation. The Colonel, too, was startled.
”That's Ash Garth, with Janet Harding on the steps! Where did you get them? What does it mean?”
Instead of answering, the girl glanced at her mother.
”I think it's quite plain,” Mrs. Mowbray said. ”Beatrice is engaged to Basil Harding's son.”
”Why was I not told before?” Mowbray asked excitedly. ”He's as well born as you are! Can't you see how it alters things?”
”Craig declares it makes no difference--and I'm beginning to agree with him.”
”That's absurd!” Mowbray exclaimed. ”False pride; mistaken sentiment! We know the advantage of springing from a good stock. Now I understand why I sometimes felt a curious sympathy with Harding, even when I hated his opinions.”
”You gave us no reason to suspect it,” Beatrice answered with a smile.
”Do you know his father's history?”
”Yes; but I don't know that I ought to tell it without his son's permission.”
”Then we'll wait,” said Beatrice. ”Craig will be here soon.”
Harding came in a few minutes afterward, and Mowbray, giving him a friendly greeting, handed him the letter Lance had brought, and the photographs.
”Your father was a comrade of mine,” the Colonel said. ”We were both stationed at an outpost in Northern India.”
”Then you may be able to tell me something about his early life,”
replied Harding quietly. ”It's a subject he never spoke of.”
”I can do so. Are you willing that Beatrice and her mother should hear?”