Part 11 (1/2)
”Indeed!” said she, with a faint, very faint show of interest, as though quite unexpectedly aware of some favourable trait in his character. ”Who would have thought it! It is a letter from my niece's governess I have lost, and with it all clue to her address.”
”I can, perhaps, supply that,” said Mr. M'Kinlay; ”at least, if it be the town she stopped at while the yacht is being repaired.”
”Exactly so. What's the name of it?”
”Here it is,” said he, producing a small clasped note-book, from which, after a brief search, he read, ”Mademoiselle Heinzleman's address will meanwhile be, 'Carrick's Royal Hotel, Westport, Ireland.'”
”What a blessing is red tapery after all!” said she, in a sort of soliloquy. ”If there were not these routine people, what would become of us?”
”I am charmed that even my blemishes should have rendered you a service,” said he, with a tingling cheek.
”I don't think my sister knows you are here,” said she, ignoring all his remarks.
”I suspect Rickards must have told her,” said he, half stiffly.
”Just as likely not; he is getting so stupid--_so_ old.”
This was a very cruel speech to be so emphasized, for Rickards was only one year Mr. M'Kinlay's senior.
”He looks active, alert, and I'd not guess him above forty-six, or seven.”
”I don't care for the number of his years, but he is old enough to be fussy and officious, and he has that atrocious activity which displays itself with certain middle-aged people by a quick, short step, abrupt speech, and a grin when they don't hear you. Oh, don't you hate that deaf-man's smile?”
Mr. M'Kinlay would fain have smiled too, but he feared the category it would sentence him to.
”I'm afraid you expected to find my brother here, but he's away; he is cruising somewhere along the coast of Ireland.”
”I was aware of that. Indeed, I am on my way to join him, and only diverged at Crewe to come over here, that I might bring him the latest advices from home.”
”And are you going yachting?” said she, with a sort of surprise that sent the blood to M'Kinlay's face and even his forehead.
”No, Miss Courtenay, I trust not, for I detest the sea; but Sir Gervais wants my advice about this Irish estate he is so full of.”
”Oh! don't let him buy anything in Ireland. I entreat of you, Mr.
M'Kinlay, not to sanction this. None of us would ever go there, not even to look at it.”
”I imagine the mischief is done.”
”What do you mean by being done?”
”That the purchase is already made, the agreement ratified, and everything completed but the actual payment.”
”Well, then, don't pay; compromise, contest, make difficulties. You legal people needn't be told how to raise obstacles. At all events, do anything rather than have an Irish property.”
”I wish I had one.”
”Well, I wish you had--that is, if you are so bent upon it. But I must go and tell my sister this distressing news. I don't know how she'll bear it! By the way,” added she, as she reached the door, ”I shall find you here when I come back--you are not going away?”
”Certainly not without seeing Lady Vyner, if she will accord me that honour,” said he, stiffly.