Part 57 (2/2)
”Yes, my dear. No need for the locket to bear witness. I had my duty to do, and it is done.”
”Done?”
”Yes; to punish him for his crime.”
”Crampton, what have you said? Harry! before it is too late!”
”It is too late, my child. See here.” He held out a sc.r.a.p of reddish paper. ”From the London police. I could not trust those bunglers here.”
Madelaine s.n.a.t.c.hed the paper from his hand and read it.
”Oh!” she moaned, and the paper dropped from her hand.
Harry s.n.a.t.c.hed it from the floor, read it, let it fall, and reeled against the table, whose edge he grasped.
Madelaine struggled and freed herself from the old man's detaining arm.
”Harry!” she panted--”it would be my father's wish--escape! There may yet be time.”
He leaned back against the table, gazing at her wildly, as if he did not grasp her words. Then he started as if stung by a sudden lash as old Crampton said: ”I have done my duty. It is too late.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
LESLIE MAKES A DECLARATION.
”Where is Harry?” said George Vine that same evening, as he sat in his study, surrounded by his living specimens of natural history, and with the paper before him that he had vainly tried to fill.
”He must be waiting about down in the town--for news,” said Louise, looking up from her work.
”He ought to have been here to dinner, my dear,” said the naturalist querulously; ”it would have been some comfort. Tut--tut--tut! I cannot collect my thoughts; everything seems to slip from me.”
”Then why not leave it, dear, for the present? This terrible trouble as unhinged you.”
She had risen and gone to the back of his chair, to pa.s.s her arm lovingly about his neck, and he leaned back, dropping his pen to take her hand and play with it, pressing it to his lips from time to time.
”I suppose I had better,” he said sadly; ”but I am dreadfully behindhand--four letters from the Society unanswered. I wish they did not expect so much from me, my darling.”
”I do not,” said Louise, smiling. ”Why should you wish to be less learned than you are?”
”Had we not better go on again to Van Heldre's now?”
”I think I would leave it till quite the last thing.”
”Ye-es,” said Vine, hesitating, ”perhaps so; but I don't like it, my child. Van Heldre has always been to me like a brother, and it seems so strange and hard to be almost driven from his side. Doctor's like a tyrant, and as for Crampton--there, wait till the poor fellow is well again, and if we together do not give Master Crampton a severe setting down, my name is not what it is.”
”You must forgive it, dear; he is so anxious about his master.”
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