Part 42 (2/2)

”Derek.”

The first sensation in Felix on reading this effusion was poignant recollection of the little lawyer's look after Derek had made the scene at Tryst's committal and of his words: 'Nothing in it, is there?' His second thought: 'Is this the cutting of the knot that I've been looking for?' His third, which swept all else away: 'My poor little darling!

What business has that boy to hurt her again like this!'

He heard her say:

”Tryst told me himself he did it, Dad! He told me when I went to see him in the prison. Honour doesn't demand what isn't true! Oh, Dad, help me!”

Felix was slow in getting free from the cross currents of reflection.

”He wrote this last night,” he said dismally. ”He may have done it already. We must go and see John.”

Nedda clasped her hands. ”Ah! Yes!”

And Felix had not the heart to add what he was thinking: 'Not that I see what good he can do!' But, though sober reason told him this, it was astonis.h.i.+ngly comforting to be going to some one who could be relied on to see the facts of the situation without any of that 'flimflam' with which imagination is accustomed to surround them. ”And we'll send Derek a wire for what it's worth.”

They went at once to the post-office, Felix composing this message on the way: 'Utterly mistaken chivalry you have no right await our arrival Felix Freeland.' He handed it to her to read, and pa.s.sed it under the bra.s.s railing to the clerk, not without the feeling of shame due from one who uses the word chivalry in a post-office.

On the way to the Tube station he held her arm tightly, but whether to impart courage or receive it he could not have said, so strung-up in spirit did he feel her. With few words exchanged they reached Whitehall.

Marking their card 'Urgent,' they were received within ten minutes.

John was standing in a high, white room, smelling a little of papers and tobacco, and garnished solely by five green chairs, a table, and a bureau with an immense number of pigeonholes, whereat he had obviously been seated. Quick to observe what concerned his little daughter, Felix noted how her greeting trembled up at her uncle and how a sort of warmth thawed for the moment the regularity of his brother's face. When they had taken two of the five green chairs and John was back at his bureau, Felix handed over the letter. John read it and looked at Nedda. Then taking a pipe out of his pocket, which he had evidently filled before they came in, he lighted it and re-read the letter. Then, looking very straight at Nedda, he said:

”Nothing in it? Honour bright, my dear!”

”No, Uncle John, nothing. Only that he fancies his talk about injustice put it into Tryst's head.”

John nodded; the girl's face was evidence enough for him.

”Any proof?”

”Tryst himself told me in the prison that he did it. He said it came on him suddenly, when he saw the straw.”

A pause followed before John said:

”Good! You and I and your father will go down and see the police.”

Nedda lifted her hands and said breathlessly:

”But, Uncle! Dad! Have I the right? He says--honour. Won't it be betraying him?”

Felix could not answer, but with relief he heard John say:

”It's not honorable to cheat the law.”

”No; but he trusted me or he wouldn't have written.”

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