Part 5 (1/2)

The silence was dreadful to her, but she could think of nothing to say.

It was Mr. Brown, at last, who spoke.

”I was afraid you would not be able to find your way, Miss Thurwell,” he said quietly. ”I must apologize for asking you to come into such a den.

The small engraving on the wall is the proof 'Bartolozzi' I spoke to you about. The head is perfect, is it not? Some day I should like to show you my 'Guido.' I am afraid, just now, I could not expect you to appreciate them.”

She murmured something--what, she scarcely knew, and he did not appear to hear. The cold surprise disappeared from Sir Allan's face. Evidently he believed in Mr. Brown's mercifully offered explanation of her presence here.

”What! are you an enthusiast, Miss Thurwell?” he exclaimed. ”Well, well, I was worse myself once in my younger days, before my profession made a slave of me. Surely, that is a genuine 'Velasquez,' Mr. Brown. Upon my word! Fancy coming across such a treasure here!”

He picked his way across the disorderly chamber, and, adjusting his eyegla.s.s, stood looking at the picture. Helen made a hasty movement towards the door, and Mr. Brown followed her into the adjoining room.

”If I had known that I was to be honored by a visit from a lady,” he said, ”I would have endeavored----”

She turned suddenly round upon him with flaming cheeks.

”Don't,” she interrupted, almost beseechingly. ”Mr. Brown, you were very good to me just then. Thank you! I was most abominably rude to go into that room without your permission.”

Her eyes were fixed upon the floor, and her distress was evident. It was clear that she felt her position acutely.

”Pray say no more about it,” he begged earnestly. ”It isn't worth a second thought.”

She stopped with her back to one of the great cases filled with books, and hesitated. Should she confess to him frankly why she had gone there, and ask his pardon for such a wild thought? She raised her eyes slowly, and looked at him. Of course it was absurd. She has been out of her mind, she knew that now; and yet----

She looked at him more closely still. He had not seemed in any way disturbed when they had found her in that room--only a little surprised and bewildered. And yet, after all, supposing his composed demeanor had been only a.s.sumed. He was certainly very pale, very pale indeed, and there was a slight twitching of his hands which was out of character with his absolute impa.s.siveness. Supposing it should be a forced composure. He looked like a man capable of exercising a strong control over his feelings. Supposing it should be so. Was there not, after all, just a chance that her former suspicions were correct?

The action of the mind is instantaneous. All these thoughts and doubts merely flashed through it, and they left her very confused and undecided. Her sense of grat.i.tude towards him for s.h.i.+elding her before Sir Allan Beaumerville, and the intuitive sympathy of her nature with the delicacy and tact which he had shown in his manner of doing so, were on the whole stronger than her shadowy suspicions. And yet these latter had just sufficient strength to check the impulse of generosity which prompted her to confess everything to him. She did not tell him why she had started on the quest which had come to such an ignominious conclusion. She offered him no explanation whatever.

”It was very good of you,” she repeated. ”I did not deserve it at all.

And now I must go and look for my father.”

Mr. Thurwell was waiting in the hall, somewhat surprised at her absence. But he asked no questions. His thoughts were too full of the terrible thing which had happened to his friend and neighbor--and withal his daughter's betrothed.

They walked back across the moor together, saying very little, for there was only one possible subject for conversation, and both of them shrank a little from speaking about it. But when they were more than half-way to their destination, she asked a question.

”Nothing has been discovered, I suppose, of the murderer?”

Her father shook his head.

”Nothing. The dagger is our only clue as yet--except this.”

He drew a folded piece of paper from his pocket, and touched it lightly with his finger.

”What is it? May I see?”

He handed it to her at once.

”It was in his pocket,” he said. ”I am keeping it to hand over to the proper authorities. Mr. Brown offered to take care of it, but I felt that, as a magistrate, I was in a measure responsible for everything in the shape of a clue, so I brought it away with me. Read it.”