"I have my doubts," said Hench dolefully.
"I haven't. Women are contrary animals. As her prosperous cousin she may hate you. As an innocent man, in danger of being hanged, she will love you."
"May you be a true prophet," said Hench fervently, and Vane went away laughing.
CHAPTER XIV
AT BAY
Vane faithfully delivered both messages, and Gwen was as pleased with the churchyard appointment as Mrs. Perage was annoyed by Hench's folly. That he should walk for miles on a weak ankle proved what a fool he was, and she said as much to her nephew next morning at breakfast.
"You men are all babies, Jim, silly, obstinate and weak."
"Not me," retorted the barrister. "I haven't been fooling with my ankle."
"You know quite well what I mean," fumed Mrs. Perage, who was in her work-a-day attire, and who looked particularly fierce. "It's not only his ankle, it's his masquerading." She rubbed her nose irritably. "I tell you there will be the deuce to pay. Gwen is Welsh."
"Well, what does her nationality matter?"
"It matters everything. The Welsh are a particularly fiery nation, and have the pride of Old Nick. As a poor man Gwen loves her cousin--he is the fairy prince who has come into her life. But when she learns the truth----"
"She'll forgive him if she loves him."
Mrs. Perage shook her head and scowled. "You don't know woman, Jim. Her very love may make her resent his not having treated her quite honestly."
"Aren't you taking the matter too seriously, Aunt Emma?" expostulated Vane with a shrug. "After all, Miss Evans must see that Owain could only give himself a fair chance by masquerading as he has done. If he had turned up in propria persona_, she would have disliked him on the spot."
"Hum!" boomed Mrs. Perage doubtfully. "Perhaps. But not if he had saved her life. That act would have excused everything had it been done as Owain Evans."
"What do you mean by excusing everything?"
"I mean as regards the reputation of Owain Evans. Of course Madoc was always a liar, as I know, and Gwen didn't get on over-well with him. As a deus ex machina_, Gwen would have disbelieved her father's stories of her cousin's wickedness."
"But the poor chap isn't wicked at all. He's the whitest man I know."
"Madoc's lies would have smirched the whiteness of an angel," retorted the old lady sharply. "But Gwen would have either forgiven or would have disbelieved had Hench come as her cousin. As it is she may throw him over if he tells her who he really is."
"Oh, he intends to tell her right enough, and this very day, somewhere about three o'clock," said Vane coolly. "She may cut up rough for the minute, but when Owain gets into trouble she'll find out that she loves him all right."
"Trouble!" Mrs. Perage looked up suddenly. "What trouble?"
"I'm not at liberty to say, Aunt Emma. Owain intends to tell you himself. But there's a big trouble coming along."
"Hum! Can't it be averted?"
"So far as I can see, it can't."
"Well, Jim,"--the old dame rose from the breakfast table and brushed the crumbs from her apron,--"I'll wait to hear the young man's explanation. But I am quite sure that he is honest and kind and a well-bred gentleman. Nothing will ever make me change my opinion of him."
"Wait till you hear what the trouble is."
"Do you know all about it?" demanded Mrs. Perage imperatively.
"Yes, I do."
"And you still can call Hench your friend?"
"I can. He's a rattling good chap."
"Then why the dickens should I change my opinion when I learn the truth?" said Mrs. Perage vigorously. "It can't be anything dishonourable or you would not champion Hench. Do you think you are talking to a fool, Jim Vane?"
"Oh Lord, Aunt Emma, don't get on to me. My nerves are weak."
"Your head is," retorted Aunt Emma smartly. "I wish you hadn't hinted at this trouble, Jim. I'm horribly inquisitive, and will be on tenterhooks until I know what it's all about."
"I don't expect you'll have to wait long," said Vane gloomily. "There will be the devil to pay if----"
Mrs. Perage closed her ears and hurried to the door. "Not another word. You are only making me more and more curious. But I tell you what, Jim, I am going to stand Hench's friend in any case."
"You're a brick, Aunt Emma."
"I'm an old fool," snapped Mrs. Perage, who was more upset by the implied mystery than she chose to admit. "My wisest plan would be to wash my hands of the whole business, known and unknown. But instead of doing so I am just going to strengthen Gwen's love for Owain, so that it may not fail her when he makes his revelation."
Mrs. Perage held to this determination, and twice or thrice during the morning she exchanged words with Miss Evans on the subject of Hench. The girl for the time being had lost sight of her mission of clearing her name by discovering the name of the assassin, and was wholly taken up with love dreams. She was passionately devoted to the young man, as his attitude tended to increase her belief in the nobility of his nature. He had saved her life as it was, and now, in the face of the rumours which credited her with the death of her father, he was willing to marry her. No man but the noblest who ever breathed would act in so gloriously honourable a fashion. She said this and much more to Mrs. Perage in the seclusion of her bedroom, when she was putting on her prettiest frock and hat to keep the appointment. And all the time Mrs. Perage was rubbing her beaky nose irritably.
"Don't build the pedestal too high, Gwen," she advised dryly. "Your idol may have feet of clay and come toppling over."
"No," said the girl firmly. "Nothing will ever make me believe that Mr. Hench is not the best of men. What is his Christian name, Mrs. Perage? It is strange that he did not tell me yesterday."
Mrs. Perage was much too wary to give the name, lest it should lead to uncomfortable questions and forestall Owain's explanations. "How the deuce should I know the man's name?" she asked crossly and evasively. "I never met him until you introduced him to me as your hero."
"And he is a hero, isn't he?"
"Hum! I suppose so! The rescue was rather flamboyant--a kind of playing to the gallery."
"How unjust," cried Gwen, flaming up, which was exactly what Mrs. Perage wanted her to do. "As if he could help the way in which my rescue took place. I am quite sure that he is the most modest of men."
"Pooh! No man is modest; they are all as conceited as pigs."
"I never knew that pigs were considered vain, Mrs. Perage," said Gwen coldly. "And I don't see why you should compare Mr. Hench to one."
"I spoke generally. Don't be silly."
"Ah, you call me silly because I'm in love."
"Are you really and truly in love?" asked the old lady doubtfully. "Mind you, I don't mean that easy romantic passion which seems everything and means nothing. But real love, true love, staunch love, the sort which will hold to its object in the face of all detraction."
"I wouldn't believe a word against Mr. Hench, if that is what you mean. But I don't know why you should use the word detraction."
"I don't know myself," said Mrs. Perage grimly. "Unless it is that I find most men are broken cisterns. There, there, child, go away and meet your Prince. I don't wish to be your Jeremiah and prophesy woe."
"I wouldn't believe you if you did," said the girl very decidedly. "All my woe was undergone with the death of my father and the loss of my old home. I am sure that there is nothing but sunshine ahead."
Mrs. Perage sniffed and thought anxiously about Vane's hints. But it was not her business to give chapter and verse for her forebodings. And, at all events, she had somewhat strengthened Gwen's love for the young man by depreciating him in a hinting kind of way. When the girl, flushed with love, and looking as pretty as a picture, set forth to keep the appointment, Mrs. Perage stood at the window and breathed a prayer that all would be well. It was a bright warm day, but clouds were drifting across the sky. Even as the old dame prayed a cloud concealed the brightness of the sun and Mrs. Perage shuddered. It was an omen of ill, she thought; but when a few moments later the cloud passed and the glow of the sunshine reasserted itself, she cheered up. It seemed to her that trouble was coming, but would pass without being of any great duration. She fervently hoped so, and went about her daily business calling herself hard names for being so superstitious.
Meantime, Gwen, with a smiling face and a light heart, was walking swiftly towards the place of meeting. Every moment spent away from Hench, now that he had declared himself, seemed to be wasted, and she promised herself three or four golden hours with her lover. They would talk in the churchyard for a time, and then would take a long walk, in any direction, for whatever path they chose would lead to the Elysian Fields. Then he would tell her how much he loved her, and she would respond coyly to his caresses, until earth and sea and sky would be transfigured, and they would be blessed above all lovers who ever were or who ever would be. Afterwards would come marriage, and they would enter into the kingdom of heaven to remain there for ever and ever. Gwen rather blushed at the extravagance of her thoughts when she entered the churchyard, and blushed still more when she came suddenly upon the ancient Saxon Cross, against which the man of men was leaning. She thought for a single nervous moment that he looked rather pinched and worried, but had no cause to complain of the warmth of his greeting. Once she was in his arms with only the jackdaws for spectators, it seemed as though he would never let her go. All the poetry of Romeo and Juliet was in his embrace. And those lovers met in a vault at the last which was even more weird than meeting in a churchyard.
"Though I'm not sure if I like it," murmured Gwen following the course of her thoughts, as they sat down on a flat tombstone.
"Like what?" inquired Hench fatuously; "me?"
"I wasn't thinking of you at the moment."
"Oh, Gwen!" This was breathed with an air of reproach.
"I deserve that, I deserve that," she cried penitently. "But really I was thinking that a churchyard is rather a dismal place to meet in."
"Any place is Paradise where you are," Hench assured her. "But we can go away for a walk in a few minutes."
"Into Parley Wood?"
Hench shivered. "No. I don't like Parley Wood--on your account," he added in a hasty manner. "For there----"
"Yes, I know." Gwen stopped him and shivered also. "I didn't think of what I was saying. But we can't stay here amongst the tombs."
"Why not? Have you any sad recollections about these tombs? Your father is not buried here, I know."
"He is buried at Rhaiadr, in Wales, where his ancestors lie," said the girl in an altered tone. "But I wish you would not speak of my father. He was so cruel to me that I wish to forget all about him for the time being. We will have to talk of him later, when it is necessary to learn who killed him. Meantime, let us have our golden hour. But no"--she made a gesture of despair--"we have lost that as it is."
"Why so?"
"Because you have called up the spectre of my father," said Gwen sadly. "You have reminded me that I am looked at askance by the villagers."
"Dear, you are quite wrong about that. Mrs. Bell speaks of you in the highest terms of respect. I think you are making a mistake."
"No, I am not," said Gwen decisively. "I don't say that any one has openly declared that I have anything to do with the--the crime"--her breath came and went quickly--"but people look and people talk secretly."
"What does it matter so long as they don't talk openly?" said Hench, soothing her gently.
"I wish they would," she cried vehemently. "For then I could meet the rumours better. As it is I am fighting in the dark--and all alone, too."
"No! No!" Hench gathered her into his strong arms. "You have me to fight for you now. Be calm, dearest; everything will be put right now."
"Eh, my faith, but that is most true," said a voice immediately behind them, and the lovers jumped up in dismay to find that they were observed.
The speaker had suddenly emerged from behind a tall tombstone near at hand, and stood staring hard at them--a dumpy little woman with a swarthy face and big black eyes now filled with anger. It did not require the orange-spotted dress, the shabby bead-trimmed mantle and the picture hat to inform either of the young people who the spy was. Hench recognized Madame Alpenny at once, and Gwen beheld the unknown visitor who had called at the Grange. To a woman the dress was sufficient to fix the identity.
"You are the woman who came to see my father," said Gwen, turning white, for the sight of this visitor revived her recollections of the painful days before Squire Evans was murdered.
"Yes, I am the woman. Very clever of you, Mademoiselle, to remember me."
"I remember your dress. Who are you?"
Madame Alpenny nodded suavely towards the silent Hench. "Ask him."
Gwen turned round and looked hard at her lover's colourless face. "Who is this woman?" she asked almost inaudibly. "Do you know her?"
"None better," snapped the Hungarian lady. "Come, Mr. Hench, say who I am, and then I shall tell Mademoiselle who you are."
"Tell him who he is; tell me who he is," stuttered Gwen incoherently. "What do you mean?"
"Ask him," said Madame Alpenny once more. "Mr. Hench----"
"Ah"--the Hungarian lady broke into a hard laugh--"then he has not told you his Christian name."
"I will tell her now," said Hench, taking Gwen's cold hand, and speaking with an effort. "This lady is Madame Alpenny, who lived in the same boarding-house as I did in Bethnal Green."
"But what had she to do with my father, and what has she to do with you?"
"I think your Christian name will explain all in one word," remarked Madame Alpenny, looking up at the blue sky.
"I intended to tell you myself, Gwen, this very morning," cried Hench, striving to preserve his calmness, which was sorely shaken.
"Tell me what?" said Gwen, who was very white and unstrung.
"That my Christian name is--Owain."
"Owain----?"
"Owain Evans," said Madame Alpenny sharply. "Let there be an end to his deceit, Mademoiselle. He is your cousin, the same who has robbed you of your heritage, the same who has----"
"Hold your tongue!" interrupted Hench fiercely. "It is for Miss Evans to speak and not you."
"_Miss Evans," sneered the woman, with sparkling eyes. "Why so, when you called her by her Christian name lately, as she can now call you by yours? Oh, it is very well, very well indeed, this bal masque of lies and wickedness."
By this time, Gwen, who had been staring silently at Hench, spoke in a low tone, but in so absolutely unemotional a manner that he could not tell what her feelings were. "Are you really my cousin?"
"Yes! I knew that you were prejudiced against me owing to the false stories told to you by your father, therefore I wished to make your acquaintance under the name my father took when he was sent away from home. Until a few weeks ago I believed it was my true name. Don't blame me over-much, Gwen," he implored. "After all, I wouldn't have had a fair chance had I come as your cousin."
"Perhaps not," she said softly, and a touch of colour came into her face. "And after all, you saved my life."
"No! No! Let us put all obligation out of the question!" cried Hench resolutely. "I wish to be judged on my merits."
"That will be difficult, seeing what a hero you are," said Madame Alpenny in a hatefully smooth voice.
"Hold your tongue!" cried Gwen, turning on her just as Hench had done. "You came down here to make mischief this time, as you came before to make mischief. How you succeeded before you best know yourself, although I truly believe that your last visit had something to do with my father's death."
"It is a lie!" said Madame Alpenny fiercely, and stepped forward.
Gwen did the same, and the two were face to face, very close indeed to one another. "I believe that it is the truth. But of that we can talk later. As to making mischief this time, you shan't succeed. I quite understand why my cousin wished to give himself a chance of being judged fairly. And, after all, he came under the name his father used for many years."
"Oh, Gwen"--Hench caught her hand--"do you forgive me?"
"You silly fellow, there is nothing to forgive," she replied gently. "You were right, as I was greatly prejudiced against you by my father. But now----"
"Now?" he asked, looking at her anxiously.
"I believe you to be honourable and honest, and----"
"Ah"--Madame Alpenny broke in with a snarl, since things were not going as she desired--"honourable, honest. Oh, it is very fine; most excellent, I call it. Do not be sure, Mademoiselle, that he is what you call him."
"I am sure"--Gwen stamped--"and to prove the truth of my belief, I am ready to marry him, as my cousin, Owain Evans. There!"
"Oh, Gwen! Oh, Gwen!" said Hench, scarcely believing his ears.
"Ah, it is so," taunted the marplot. "Do you marry him for the heritage you have lost by his coming?"
"I marry him because I love him, as he loves me," said Gwen quietly, and placing her hand in that of her lover, she faced Madame Alpenny steadily.
"What a comparison"--the woman threw up her hands--"when he loves you not in the least little bit."
"I love her with all my heart and soul!" cried the young man furiously.
"Ah, and so did you speak to my daughter, Zara."
Gwen pulled her hand away from that of Owain, and looked from him to the scoffing woman. "My daughter, Zara," she repeated. "And who is she?"
"Do I not speak English?" questioned Madame Alpenny mockingly. "Ah, then I do pray your forgiveness, as I am what you call--yes--an alien."
"It is nonsense you are talking," said Hench angrily. "Your daughter----"
Then she turned on him furiously, letting her temper flame out for the first time during the interview. "Yes, my daughter. You dare to stand there and declare that you do not love her. She is heart-broken, poor girl, because you have deserted her. I came here bearing a message, and when I visited where you are staying, your landlady told me you had gone to this place. I followed quietly and hid myself there"--she flung out an arm towards the tall tombstone--"to hear what?--you making love with another girl. But it shall not be so, I tell you. Zara, my daughter, you shall marry, and not this--this----"
"Stop!" cried Hench, finally managing to stay this torrent of words. "If you begin to call names you will be sorry for it. I do not love your daughter--I never loved your daughter. It is true that I admired her, but she told me how she desired to marry Bracken."
"You false one!" raged Madame Alpenny. "Zara told me you did ask her hand in marriage."
"That is true," acknowledged Hench boldly. "But I----" he paused, for a low cry of pain broke on his ear. He turned impetuously to reassure Gwen of his devotion, only to see her gliding up the path towards the gate with surprising swiftness. Evidently his foolish admission had given her to understand that Madame Alpenny's accusation was true, and without waiting to hear any explanation, she had slipped away in despair. "Gwen! Gwen!" cried the young man in hoarse tones, and hastening after the girl. "Wait; wait; it is not what you think, my dear; it is----" his voice broke, as Gwen, without turning her head, reached the gate and ran along the road.
"Ah, but no. You shall not go after," hissed a bitter voice at his elbow, and Madame Alpenny grasped his arm firmly. "Here you stay to speak with me."
"You old fiend!" cried Hench, turning on her furiously, for he saw that it was useless to follow Gwen and explain at the present moment.
"As you please," retorted the Hungarian lady, releasing him. "Names do not do harm, my friend. I can afford to laugh, and I do."
While she was laughing, Hench suddenly became quite cool. He saw that he was in both a dangerous and uncomfortable position, as the woman had chosen her time excellently to complicate matters. Gwen had pardoned his masquerade, but she was far too feminine, as he believed, to pardon his proposing to another woman. In a moment Hench determined to settle Madame Alpenny and then go at once to enlist Mrs. Perage on his side. "Well," he said calmly to the marplot, "you have found me and you have done your worst. What now?"
"Don't say that much, Monsieur," said Madame Alpenny shrilly. "Done my worst, do you declare? Ah, but no. Not yet have I said what I came to say."
"I know what you have come to say," retorted Hench, taking the bull by the horns, which was the best thing to do. "You mean to accuse me of murdering my uncle."
Madame Alpenny looked rather taken aback by this cool defiance, but accepted the situation with a vicious pluck. "And is it not so?"
"It isn't worth my while to reply to so ridiculous a question," said Hench, shrugging his square shoulders. "You accuse me. On what grounds, pray?"
"Plenty of grounds, Monsieur; plenty of grounds. You obeyed that advertisement and met your uncle to murder him and get the property."
"When I didn't know that he was my uncle, or that I would inherit any property in the event of his death?"
"You did know that he was your uncle," said the woman furiously. "Those papers at your lawyers'----"
"I did not see them until nine days later," interrupted the young man.
"_You say so," she sneered, "How can you prove that?"
"My lawyers can prove it."
"Ah, what folly!" Madame Alpenny brushed away this defence with a gesture. "It was Mr. Evans who told you in that wood how he was your uncle----"
"He did not. I never met him while he was alive."
"_You say so----" began Madame, again, only to be cut short.
"Hold your tongue and listen," said Hench in a peremptory tone. "You are very clever and cunning, Madame, and have trapped me by means of that advertisement in the hopes that you can force me to marry your daughter. I absolutely decline to do so."
"Then I tell the policemen that you are a murderer," she retorted quickly. Hench laughed. "Oh no, you won't. You would have done that long ago, but that you wished to blackmail me. But I refuse to be blackmailed also. And you, Madame, will have to explain why you came down here to request my uncle to insert that advertisement, instead of writing to me openly. Stop"--Hench waved his hand, as she was about to speak--"I have no time to enter into details now. On another occasion we can speak."
Madame Alpenny looked at him sullenly, as she was unprepared for this defiance and saw the need of gaining time. "I will wait for one week and then come to you again," she said savagely. "But you marry Zara, or you hang!"
"I shall do neither," said Hench calmly, and turned on his heel with contempt.
"One week," called out the woman furiously; "in one week I come again!"
CHAPTER XV
A FRIEND IN NEED
Now that the long-expected blow had fallen, Hench was surprised to find how lightly he had been struck. Madame Alpenny having come at an inopportune moment for him, had made mischief, and for the time being it looked as though she was triumphing. But Owain felt certain that she was afraid; he had seen fear in her eyes when he met her so defiantly. If she had been quite sure of her position, she would not have given him a week to consider matters. It was not difficult to understand why she had done so. For the murder of Evans the woman cared very little, save as a means to force the man she accused to do what she wanted. Her aim was to secure a wealthy son-in-law, and she could only do that by threatening to tell the police about his fatal visit to Cookley. But if he refused to do her bidding and she did tell the police, then, so far as she was concerned, everything was at an end. She would certainly get him into trouble, but she would not have him as her daughter's husband, nor would she get any money. Unwilling to push things too far, Madame Alpenny had therefore compromised by giving Hench seven days of grace.
Of course, at the end of that time, the young man knew that his answer to her would be the same, and then she might revenge herself by acquainting the authorities with her plausible story. But it was questionable if she would do so even then, as the fear in her eyes hinted that she knew more about the crime than she dared to admit. If anything was made public, Hench had an idea that Madame Alpenny might be placed in the dock instead of himself. He could not be sure of this, as even though she had called on Evans to set the advertisement trap, there was nothing to show that she had come to Cookley on the evening of the murder. In that case it would be difficult for her to prove that he had really kept the appointment in Parley Wood. But, as Hench recognized, the fact of the advertisement being addressed to him, together with the undoubted fact that he benefited to the extent of ten thousand a year by the death of his uncle, would undoubtedly throw suspicion on him. The girl at the Bull Inn might remember his voice as that of the tramp; and then the fact of his shaving off his beard would suggest that he had some reason to escape the accusation. On the whole, it was tolerably certain that if Madame Alpenny did go to the police, there would be trouble out of which it would not be easy to emerge scathless. But, owing to his belief that Madame Alpenny knew more about the matter than she would admit, Hench felt sure she would not seek the assistance of the authorities. And in any case he was absolutely safe for one whole week. Much could be done in that time.
It was best, meanwhile, to explain things to Gwen, so that she might be sure of his love. When she learned exactly how he had come to propose to Zara, then she would understand that his desire to marry the dancer had only been the longing of a lonely man for home and companionship. With comprehension of this fact, as Hench devoutly hoped, the love of Gwen would return, and she would stand by him in the coming trouble. He needed all the friends he could gather round him to face things, and particularly felt that having his cousin to defend him would brace him up to defend himself. Without her love the young man felt that it would not be worth while to fight. Ten thousand a year and a clearance of his name from suspicion would not make up for the loss of the girl, who was now all in all to him. Therefore the first thing to do was to win back Gwen's heart; after that the deluge could come, so far as Hench was concerned.
He returned to his lodgings, and glancing through the window, saw Madame Alpenny waddling along the street on her way to the station. She cast one vengeful look on the cottage of Mrs. Bell, but did not attempt to enter, which was another sign that she did not feel herself strong enough to go into details. And, as a matter of fact, such was the case. Madame Alpenny had hoped to dominate Hench immediately, and his defiance had taken her entirely by surprise. Therefore, she had wisely retreated in order to collect herself, and intended to descend on him at the end of seven days with overwhelming proofs of his guilty deed. Hench was relieved when he saw her pass by the cottage, as he did not wish her to enter and make trouble. Also he was relieved because he saw in her passing a confession of weakness. Therefore did he feel much more cheerful and hopeful than he had done for many a long day.
Mrs. Bell explained that a lady had called to see her lodger and that she had sent her on to the churchyard, whither Hench had intimated he was going. She hoped that she had not done wrong. Owain told her that the visitor had only come down to see him on business; that the business had been easily dispatched; that the lady had returned to London, and that Mrs. Bell had acted quite judiciously.
The little pale woman accepted the explanation in all good faith, and then went to open the door for the entrance of another lady. Hench, busy with his afternoon tea, was not surprised when Mrs. Perage entered, full of wrath. He had rather expected she would come, as it occurred to him that Gwen's unexpected return from the churchyard would lead to questions and explanations. From the very first remark of Mrs. Perage, it was certain that she knew all about the matter.
"Well," said the fierce old lady, who looked something like Meg Merrilees in her half-masculine, half-feminine garb, "this is a nice state of affairs, young man. Gwen goes to meet you with her heart full of love, and returns with that same heart broken into little pieces. Your work."
"Sit down, Mrs. Perage, and let us talk quietly," said Hench entreatingly.
"Talk quietly!" echoed Mrs. Perage, sitting down nevertheless. "Why, I'm seething with rage, and want to break things--you amongst them."
"Then you doubt me?"
Mrs. Perage looked at him with a softer eye, and remembered how she had been prepared to stand by him whatever was said. She had declared as much to Jim Vane, and could do nothing else but fulfil her declaration. "Perhaps you have some excuse, young man?" she said truculently.
"I have no excuse, but I have an explanation," said Hench dryly.
"Then you did propose to that other girl!" shrieked Mrs. Perage furiously.
"Yes. I told you that I----"
"You didn't; you didn't." Mrs. Perage would not give him time to finish his remark. "You told me that you admired another girl, but that she loved some one else, so you went away. Pfui! Do you think that my memory has gone with age?"
"What you say is quite true----"
"That my memory has gone with age?" demanded the old lady acidly.
"No! No! No! But your recollection of what I said about my former----"
"Love-affairs!" interpolated Mrs. Perage, who declined to be suppressed.
"No! No! No!" cried Hench again and earnestly. "I never was in love until I met Gwen. I told you so. But I did say that I admired another girl."
"You didn't say that you had proposed to her," said Mrs. Perage grimly.
"No, I didn't, because----"
"Because you loved her."
"I didn't!" cried Owain, thoroughly exasperated by these constant interruptions. "As I have already stated, I didn't know the meaning of the word love until I met with Gwen."
"Then why did you propose to this Zara creature? One doesn't propose unless love has something to do with the matter."
"Has your experience of life only taught you that much, Mrs. Perage? A man proposes for the sake of money."
"Was this Zara creature rich?"
"No. She was very poor."
"Then you didn't propose to her on that account. Come"--Mrs. Perage spoke in her roughest manner--"don't waste my time. Why did you propose?"
"Because I was a lonely man and wanted a home and a comrade. I had been wandering all over the world by myself, and found life dismal in the extreme. I didn't love Zara Alpenny one little bit. But I admired her as a thoroughly good woman----"
"Oh"--Mrs. Perage rubbed her nose--"she was a good woman, was she?"
"A thoroughly good woman," repeated Hench, again emphasizing his remark. "And when I asked her to be my wife, she told me that I didn't love her, but only wanted a home, adding that she loved some one else. I recognized the truth of her statement with regard to my own feelings, and therefore I went away from Bethnal Green. I still respect her, Mrs. Perage, and if I can forward her marriage with the man of her choice in any way, I will do so. After all, Madame Alpenny wants a rich son-in-law, and I am wealthy enough to smooth matters over in that way for Ned Bracken."
"Who is he?"
"The man Zara loves. And that you may know the worst, let me tell you that she is a dancer at a Bethnal Green music-hall."
"Hum!" said Mrs. Perage, smiling grimly. "And by mentioning her profession and position you think that I will have a bad opinion of her. Fudge! I have met with dancers much better as regards morals than many a woman received at Court. Don't be a fool and think you are talking to an inexperienced girl."
"Well, I did talk to an inexperienced girl," said Hench rather bitterly, "and she has turned on me."
"Why not? You gave her no explanation."
"How could I, when she ran away while I was speaking? I couldn't follow quickly enough, as my foot is yet weak."
"Your ankle, you mean--be careful in your speech." Mrs. Perage rubbed her nose again and her eyes grew calmer. "I'll have a cup of tea if you will have the decency to give me one."
Owain rang for a fresh cup and saucer. "I thought you wouldn't condescend to eat and drink with a pariah."
"Fudge!" said Mrs. Perage again, and very sharply. "Who said you were a pariah, you silly fellow? That's merely hurt vanity on your part."
"How can I help being hurt, when I am so misjudged?"
"Look here." Mrs. Perage bent forward and shook his shoulder. "Are you a man or a twopenny-halfpenny school-girl?"
"I'm an ass," confessed Owain, ashamed of his petty outbreak. "But I have an attack of nerves, I think, owing to my dreadful position."
"Hum!" Mrs. Perage rubbed her nose, received a cup and saucer from Mrs. Bell, who had just entered the room, and sent that fragile person out again. "Jim hinted at trouble. It seems he was right."
"Jim knows all about it."
"Well, then, I don't. Wait till I fill my cup and then you can tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"Drat the man, you know. It's more than this trouble with Gwen you have to tell me about."
"I think that I had better tell you about the trouble with Gwen first."
"What's the use of beginning at the wrong end? Relate the story from start to finish and then I'll understand more about this interview in the churchyard with this ridiculous old woman."
"Madame Alpenny."
"Hum! The name fits her. Go on."
"I have already told you most of my life---"
"And have left out the most interesting part, apparently. See here, Hench, or rather, I should say, Owain." Mrs. Perage drank some of her tea and continued slowly. "I am an old woman with a romantic heart. I love Gwen and I have taken a fancy to you. Both you and Gwen come of a bad stock, as old Mynydd Evans was a miser, Owain Evans was a profligate, and Madoc Evans was a scoundrel, fit for any deed of wickedness. You two children are the best of the bunch, and I expect get your decent morals from your mothers. I want to see you happy and married. Now, don't disappoint me."
"I certainly won't, if Gwen won't," said Owain promptly.
"Hum! Gwen is a more difficult person to manage. However, if you leave it to me, I think in some way things will be put right."
"Oh, I shall leave everything to you, with pleasure," said Hench eagerly. "And I thank you for the trouble you are taking. Your advice----"
"Cannot be given further until I am in possession of facts," interrupted Mrs. Perage, and finishing his sentence in a different way. "I know that you are Owain's son and inherit the property. I know that you love Gwen, and that it is possible, in spite of existing circumstances, that you will marry her. Also I am aware that Madoc was murdered--by that tramp, I presume."
"No!" said Hench sharply, and ready to make a clean breast. "I am the tramp."
"Ha!" exclaimed the old lady in a tone of surprise. "You are the tramp? Well, I withdraw my accusation, as I am sure you are innocent enough. But what I was coming to when you interrupted me was that I wish to know more. Jim says you are in trouble."
"In very great trouble. And if you will help me---"
"Bless the man, what I came here for was to help. But I can't do that on half-confidences. You must speak plainly. Now, no more talk. Begin." Hench did as he was ordered, and in a very short time Mrs. Perage was in possession of all facts connected with the advertisement; with the keeping of the appointment and the discovery of the body; and with the schemes of Madame Alpenny. Her strong old face did not betray much emotion, although she was inwardly astonished at the revelations, but she kept her eyes on Owain until he ceased speaking, and then rubbed her nose, as was her custom when perplexed or annoyed. As she made no remark, Hench did so. "What do you think?"
"Hum!" said Mrs. Perage, starting from the brown study in which she was involved. "You've brought your pigs to a pretty market, young man. Well, well, we must see what is best to be done."
"You don't believe me to be guilty?"
"Would I be still sitting here if I did? Don't be a fool. Not that I blame the person who got Madoc out of the way very much. He was such a disagreeable person, that I often thought I'd be hanged for killing him myself."
"Mrs. Perage!"
"It sounds dreadful, doesn't it?" she said good-humouredly. "But then you see I am a dreadful person in the eyes of many milk-and-water people, because I have my own decided opinions and go my own way. I suppose it's wrong to say a word against the dead, although I don't see why we should talk of nothing but virtues they never possessed while alive. Well, let the man rest; he did a lot of harm when he was alive, and wherever he has gone to, he's making mischief. You didn't murder him, anyhow?"
"I certainly did not," answered Hench, smiling. "But the question is, who did?"
"Ah"--Mrs. Perage kilted up her dress and folded her hands on her knees--"a very difficult question to answer. But Madame Alpenny didn't, although you seem to have some idea that she is the guilty person."
"She knew my uncle and all about the disposal of the property through the confidence made to her by my father twenty years ago."
"That doesn't prove that she murdered Madoc. She wanted you to marry her daughter undoubtedly after she laid hold of the clue which led her to learn that you were likely to inherit ten thousand a year. But why should she put her neck in a noose?"
"She might have wished me to get possession of the property at once, and have murdered my uncle in the hope that I would go to the spot and then run the risk of being arrested. I believe myself that it was all a plot to get me under her thumb. I did go to the rendezvous and I _am implicated. Well?"
Mrs. Perage rubbed her nose again. "The devil's in it for trouble," she muttered. "Perhaps I am premature in assuming that this woman is innocent, but it seems incredible that she should run such a risk. I shall have to see her first before I make up my mind. She's clever."
"In a foxy sort of way."
"Hum! The fox doesn't do things on a big scale in the way of killing."
Hench answered flippantly, as the conversation was getting on his nerves. "What about hen-roost massacres?"
Mrs. Perage rose, and was about to rebuke him when she saw, as Gwen had seen earlier, the white pinched look on his face. "You're over-wrought, my friend. I want you to promise me two things."
"Yes. What are they?" asked the young man wearily.
"In the first place do not make any move in these matters until I give you leave. I have a plan in my head."
"What is it?"
"I shan't tell it until it is carried out. In the second place do not come to my house until to-morrow afternoon."
"But Gwen will believe more than ever that I am----"
"What she thinks you are in a moment of rage on her part," finished Mrs. Perage. "That's just it. If you see her now you will spoil all. Wait until I tell you that it is safe to come."
"Very well. But I can't let you take my burden on your shoulders and stay here doing nothing. It's not cricket."
"You'll get all the cricket you require, I promise you," said Mrs. Perage as she took her departure. "I don't mind telling you," she added, glancing back, "that it interests me to have something exciting of this sort to do. Life is rather dull hereabouts."
"I only hope it will not prove too exciting."
The old lady laughed and stepped briskly out of the cottage, while Owain remained where he was kicking against the pricks. He wished to see Gwen, but as he had promised to wait for instructions he could not do so. Like the lady who had just left, he found life in Cookley intolerably dull at the moment. But then, as Gwen was not beside him, he would have found it equally dull had he been alone in Paris or London. It was Gwen who made up his existence, and nothing else mattered particularly. To such lengths does the passion of love lead ordinarily sensible human beings.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Perage walked home briskly, turning over certain plans in her very capable mind. She did not seek out Gwen, who was weeping in the retirement of her bedroom, since all explanations at the present moment were futile. But Mrs. Perage decided that when the girl grew calmer a very positive explanation, which could not be mistaken, should be made to her by the right person. To bring about this necessary event she looked up her nephew, whom she found dawdling in the garden with a cigarette and a French novel. Vane lay on the grass under a shady tree clothed in white flannels, and looked rather alarmed when his aunt appeared. The day was hot, and Mrs. Perage was so uncommonly active that she was scarcely a desirable companion for a lazy man. His anxiety was therefore natural.
"Sit up and listen," said Mrs. Perage, getting to work at once. "I've seen our young friend, and I now know as much as you do."
Jim sat up cross-legged, resigned to the worst, and Mrs. Perage seated herself on the rustic bench under the tree with the air of a judge trying a particularly vicious criminal. "Need we discuss matters just now?" he asked in a bored tone. "I'm so comfortable. Peter is bringing me some tea, I have a book and a case of cigarettes, so on the whole----"
"Don't be an ass, Jim. You can be busy enough if you like."
"That's just it, Aunt Emma," remonstrated the barrister, clutching his ankles. "I don't like. There's nothing to be done at present. I'll see Owain this evening and hear how he settled with that old woman."
"He has settled nothing. But he managed to get her to leave him alone for seven days. In that time much can be done."
"Very probably. I'm sure I wish to do all I can. And Gwen?"
"She's crying in her bedroom. She will continue to cry until she is assured that Owain really loves her and not this other girl. You know what I mean?"
"Well, as you related what took place in the churchyard and as Gwen repeated the story to me, I must admit that I do know. I say, Aunt Emma, you don't think Miss Evans minds me calling her Gwen, as I----"
"Oh, don't talk rubbish," interrupted Mrs. Perage quickly. "We have more important things to speak about. This evening you must go to town by the seven train,"--she glanced at her watch. "That will give you time to have dinner comfortably, as you needn't dress."
"But, I say,"--Vane looked rather disgusted,--"I don't want to go to town."
"You must," said his aunt impressively. "Go to Bethnal Green, and bring down with you to-morrow Mademoiselle Zara."
"What for?"
"Bless the man, can't you understand? Only this Zara creature can set Gwen's mind at rest. She can explain that Hench never really loved her and only offered himself to her to gain a home and a companion."
"Can't Owain tell Gwen that?"
"He might tell it to her fifty times and she would not believe him," said Mrs. Perage shrewdly. "But when this girl speaks everything will be put right straight away. Then we can consider what is best to be done about the other and more serious business. But you must see, Jim, that it is first necessary to adjust matters between Gwen and Hench."
"Well, Aunt Emma, you understand your own sex better than I do, so I suppose it is best for me to bring Zara Alpenny down."
"I am quite positive it is."
"Good! I'll enjoy my dinner and then go to town by the train you mention. I can bring Mademoiselle Zara to your house about two o'clock to-morrow. Now that's all right." Vane yawned and rose. "Ah, here comes Peter with the tea."
Mrs. Perage looked rather grimly on the freckled page who carried on a tray the beverage which Mr. Vane desired. Hench had told her how Madame Alpenny had learned his whereabouts through Simon, alias_ Bottles, and the same could have only acquired the knowledge through Peter.
"Here!" she said sharply. "Do you write to your brother in town and tell him all the gossip of the village?"
"Me, mum? No, mum," said Peter, rather alarmed by her peremptory tone.
"Don't tell lies, boy," said his mistress sternly. "You told your brother that Mr. Hench was staying at Mrs. Bell's cottage."
"I know I did, mum." Peter began to whimper. "But I hope I didn't do no harm, mum. Simon, he thinks no end of Mr. Hench, so I thought as I'd tell him. But it's all right, mum. Simon knows what he's about."
"What do you mean by that?" questioned Vane quickly, for the page spoke in a very significant tone. Peter shuffled and wriggled uncomfortably. "Simon will tell you, sir, when the time comes," he replied evasively.
"Tell what?"
"What Simon knows, sir."
"And what does Simon know?"
"I can't tell you, sir. Simon's clever. He knows a thing or two."
"And so do I," said Mrs. Perage sternly. "And one is that you are not to write gossiping letters from my house."
"No, mum, I won't!" And Peter went away as quickly as he could lest he should be questioned further. "Now what does that mean?" asked Mrs. Perage shrewdly. "Is this brat and his brother mixed up in this dangerous business?"
"It seems like it," replied Jim, stirring his tea meditatively. "But Peter may have written in all innocence, knowing how Bottles adores Owain."
"Bottles, as you call him, didn't tell Madame Alpenny in all innocence," she snapped.
"Hum!" said Vane, quite in his aunt's style, "we'll look into the matter." And he did so on the morrow when he went to Bethnal Green.
CHAPTER XVI
EXPLANATIONS
Gwen was thoroughly miserable. On returning from the churchyard she had shut herself up in her bedroom, after a sobbing description to Mrs. Perage and Vane of what had taken place. In this seclusion she remained, speaking little, eating less, and only sleeping occasionally when exhausted Nature insisted upon having her own sensible way. The trouble Gwen was now undergoing seemed ever so much worse than that which she had already undergone. The death of her father had been dreadful, but he had been such a tyrant that--to speak plainly--his loss had not broken her heart. But now she felt certain that her heart was really and truly broken, as the idea of losing Owain was like a nightmare. The girl by this time fully recognized that she loved her cousin dearly, even though that love had grown as rapidly and unexpectedly as Jonah's gourd. Perhaps, like the same, it would perish as quickly. Gwen attempted to assure herself of this, but could not self-hypnotise herself into such a belief. Her passion was too genuine, too strong, too overwhelming, to be got rid of so easily.
Yet--she asked herself this question frequently--how could she believe that Owain loved her, when she had heard from his own lips that he had proposed to another girl? Gwen considered that she had been very generous in forgiving his masquerading, although she admitted that under the circumstances the assumption of a false name had been pardonable. But that he should have loved some one else, and should have proposed to that some one, seemed to her to be monstrous. It was impossible for her to forget or forgive such a thing. She assured herself that self-respect demanded the adoption of this merciless attitude, but the cause of it--which she would not admit--was really jealousy. But whatever it was the feeling made her wretched, and for long hours the poor child tossed and turned and shivered and wept, as she wondered what her future was likely to be. She had youth, she had beauty, she had money, but all these desirable things were as dust and ashes, lacking the companionship of the man she loved. And as he had condemned himself out of his own mouth she could not see how the position of things was to be altered.
In her bluff way, Mrs. Perage was very sorry for the girl, as she saw how truly genuine was her suffering. The old lady strongly sympathized with that despairing feeling of youth which believes that the world has come to an end because things do not turn out as expected. Not that she believed Gwen's world had ended, but understood easily enough how the girl thought so. To put matters right, Mrs. Perage set herself to work in the hope of proving that the sun was merely obscured for the moment. For a day and a night she left the sufferer alone, so that she might get over the first stage of misery and anger. Then the old dame entered the bedroom and proceeded to develop her scheme, which she hoped would put the crooked straight.
"Well, my dear," she said in a brisk and heartless manner, as she seated herself on the bed, "have you overcome your fit of self-pity?"
"Oh, how unkind you are," wailed Gwen, who did not expect such a speech. "My heart is broken."
"No, my dear, your vanity is hurt."
"Vanity? I have no vanity."
"Well, well, we will call it pride, self-respect, dignity, or any other pretty name which appeals to you," said Mrs. Perage complacently. "Anyhow, you can't lie here amongst the ruins of your life. Have some breakfast and get up."
"I can't eat and I can't drink. How can you expect me to?" cried Gwen, who was intensely exasperated by this matter-of-fact speech. "You will make me angry, Mrs. Perage."
"I want to, since anger will make you see things in a more sensible light. You can't live on air, you know, my dear, or on love either, especially as this last is nonexistent."
The spirit of contradiction, begotten by anger, made the invalid resent this last remark. "Love isn't nonexistent," she declared crossly. "I love Owain still, although he doesn't deserve my affection in the least. I call it a shame for him to come here and save my life and make me love him, when all the time he is engaged to another girl."
"Who told you that he was?" inquired Mrs. Perage dryly, and very well satisfied with the result her conversation was producing.
"He told me so himself, and I told you how he was," said Gwen incoherently. "He admitted that he had proposed to the nasty daughter of that horrid woman."
"Well," said Mrs. Perage coolly, "a young man must gain experience somehow."
"Owain shan't gain any at my expense," retorted Gwen viciously. "After all, I don't think that he is worth troubling about."
"Of course he isn't," said Mrs. Perage, wishing to emphasize this opinion. "So lie down and go to sleep and forget all about him. You can't eat, you know."
"Yes, I can." Gwen rose in the bed angrily. "I shall have my breakfast and get up and go about things just as if nothing had happened."
Mrs. Perage shook her old head wisely. "You have not the strength."
"I have--I have. Ring the bell and order some tea and toast."
"Peter is bringing up some sort of a meal, my dear. Ah, there is his knock. I will take the tray," and Mrs. Perage went to the door to do so, chuckling at the way in which she was dealing with the situation. "Give it to me, Peter; now you can go. By the way, Gwen, shall I send him for the doctor?"
"No. I'm quite well," said the girl indignantly. So Peter was dismissed and the tray was placed on the bed. "Leave me to eat, Mrs. Perage, and you can come back after I have dressed."
"Foolish! Foolish!" said the old dame, leaving the room. "You are attempting too much." And she departed, still chuckling to think how easily this somewhat difficult young lady had fallen into the trap.
Gwen, quite ignorant that she was acting exactly as Mrs. Perage desired, sipped the tea and nibbled at the toast. Pride speedily came to her aid, and when the meal was finished she felt much better. Self-pity was now merged in a sense of anger that Owain had dared to treat her so shamefully, therefore she dressed herself in her prettiest frock with the intention of proving to him that she felt his treachery less than he might have expected. When she walked into the drawing-room, Mrs. Perage looked up to see a smartly dressed young lady with sparkling eyes and a fine colour, in place of the white-faced invalid she had left. So far the result of the experiment was distinctly good.
"And of course," suggested the old lady artfully, "you have quite decided to throw Owain overboard."
"What else would you have me do?" demanded Gwen revengefully.
"Hum!" said Mrs. Perage in a meditative manner. "I think I should ask for an explanation."
"There can be no explanation likely to satisfy me."
"That entirely depends upon my common-sense way of looking at things," said Mrs. Perage dryly. "Or on your common-sense, if you come to that. By the way, that girl is coming down here this afternoon--she will arrive in an hour."
"What girl?"
"Hum!" Mrs. Perage skirted round the subject and did not give an entirely direct reply. "Your breakfast has been your luncheon, for it is now two o'clock, so such a queer exchange of meals must have upset you. Perhaps you had better not be present."
"What girl are you talking about?" asked Gwen, her colour coming and going, although she knew perfectly well what was meant. "And I am in quite enough good health to see any girl. How dare she come here?"
"Ah!"--Mrs. Perage chuckled,--"you guess what I mean, I see. Well, my dear Jim was rather put out about your quarrel with Hench, so he suggested at my desire that it would be as well for him to go to town and bring Mademoiselle Zara with him down here to explain matters."
"I don't require any explanation," said Gwen, holding her head very high.
"Bless the girl, did I say so? This Zara woman is coming to explain to me. I may as well be plain, Gwen. It was I who told Jim to go to town and fetch her, since it is necessary that I should learn what a rascal Hench is."
"He's not a rascal; I'm sure he's not a rascal." Gwen stamped her foot and grew very red.
"Oh yes, he is, my dear. To propose to one girl and to make love to another is not right. I must inquire into his character, you know, so as to see if he is a decent man to know. Now Mademoiselle Zara can tell us the truth. But I don't want you to be present."
"But I shall!" cried Miss Evans, with another stamp. "It is my right to be present. The explanation concerns me more than any one else."
"Oh, well, if you insist upon being present, I have no more to say." Mrs. Perage shrugged her shoulders, and making a wilful mistake. "Did you say 'present' or 'pleasant'?"
"Pleasant. You must be pleasant to Mademoiselle Zara, as, after all, you do not care anything for your cousin."
"I do. All the same I am angry with him. I shall be present and be pleasant just as I please. And now I shall take a walk in the park so as to calm my nerves. I'm sure Owain has upset them enough." And Gwen hastily departed, while Mrs. Perage chuckled more than ever.
"Fiery little Welsh temper she has," murmured the old lady. "I don't envy Hench when he makes her his wife. Hum! So that's settled. Let us hope good will come of the interview." She rubbed her nose. "Gwen's a handful to manage, but by contradiction I fancy that I have secured my own way."
Of course this was quite true, although Miss Evans, walking in the park, was perfectly sure that she was acting contrary to Mrs. Perage's wishes. By this time the girl was in a fine temper, ready to quarrel with any one about anything. In fact she felt very much inclined to fight for what she considered were her rights, so far as concerned her cousin. In some queer way, Gwen arrived at the conclusion that by saving her life Hench had given her some sort of claim over him. Of course, she would never marry him; nothing would ever induce her to marry such a faithless person. But she intended to hint at her fantastic claim by ordering him to make Zara his wife. Then, on further reflection, she did not like him to marry the dancer, as she loved him herself. Still, as he was unworthy of her love, perhaps it would be as well to allow him to carry out his proposal to Madame Alpenny's daughter. He would certainly be miserable, which would serve him right, as Zara was bound to be a minx and a cat and several other disagreeable things. In this incoherent way Miss Evans thought, while working off her anger as best she could by walking at top speed up one path and down another. She did not know whether to laugh or to cry, to rage or to fret; all she did know was that everything seemed to be wrong, and that the bottom had fallen out of creation.
When Gwen again ventured into the house, she found the drawing-room tenanted by Mrs. Perage, her nephew, and two visitors. One of these was a handsome, untidily dressed young fellow, who wore his hair rather long after the manner of musicians; the other was a tall girl, gaunt, striking-looking, with something of the gipsy in her appearance. She wore a red velvet hat and a long red velvet mantle, the violent hues of which harmonized well with her somewhat sallow complexion and bold dark eyes. When Gwen entered, this girl was laughing and showed a row of very white teeth, which added to her handsome looks.
"Mademoiselle Zara, this is Miss Evans," said Mrs. Perage, rising to make a rapid introduction. "Gwen, this is Madame Alpenny's daughter, and Mr. Bracken, to whom she is engaged."
"Engaged?" Gwen started back and gasped. "But I don't understand."
"Mademoiselle Zara will explain," said Mrs. Perage swiftly, and collecting the two men with her eyes. "Mr. Bracken, I must show you my garden, as I am sure you take an interest in flowers. Come with me. You also, Jim, as you must go to Mrs. Bell's and bring Hench here."
"I don't wish to see him," called out Gwen hurriedly, but Mrs. Perage took no notice of the speech, as she had already conducted the two men out of the room, leaving the two girls alone.
Gwen eyed Zara and Zara eyed Gwen with great curiosity, and used their intuitions with so much skill that in two minutes each girl knew all about the nature of the other girl. Miss Evans could not deny but what the dancer was handsome enough to attract any one, even the most fastidious, while Zara thought that Gwen was one of the most charming young ladies she had ever seen.
"I'm sure he will be very happy with you," she said abruptly.
"Who?" asked Gwen, sitting down and getting ready to fence.
Zara laughed meaningly. "My dear, there is only one 'he' in the world for you."
"So I thought, until I found him out," retorted Miss Evans sharply.
"Oh, I understand all about your finding him out. Mr. Vane gave me a full description of my mother's meddling. But if you had waited to hear what took place after your departure from the churchyard there would have been no need for me to come down."
"I did not ask you to come down," said Gwen pointedly.
"You did not. Mrs. Perage did, however, as she was anxious for your mistake to be corrected. I am anxious, also, else I would not have troubled to take this long journey."
"Why did you undertake it, then?"
"Because I have the greatest respect for Mr. Hench."
"The greatest love, you mean."
"Indeed, I mean nothing of the sort," said Zara candidly. "I have no more love for Mr. Hench than I have for that table. Didn't you hear Mrs. Perage say that I was engaged to Mr. Bracken?"