In some degree, the drink cleared his muddled head. Mrs. Vimpany tried

his memory once more. Had he said this? Had he said that? Yes: he

thought it likely. Had he, or had Mr. Mountjoy, mentioned Lord Harry's

name? A glimmer of intelligence showed itself in his stupid eyes.

Yes--and they had quarrelled about it: he rather thought he had thrown

a bottle at Mr. Mountjoy's head. Had they, either of them, said

anything about Miss Henley? Oh, of course! What was it? He was unable

to remember. Had his wife done bothering him, now?

"Not quite," she replied. "Try to understand what I am going to say to

you. If Lord Harry comes to us while Miss Henley is in our house--"

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He interrupted her: "That's your business."

"Wait a little. It's my business, if I hear beforehand that his

lordship is coming. But he is quite reckless enough to take us by

surprise. In that case, I want you to make yourself useful. If you

happen to be at home, keep him from seeing Miss Henley until I have

seen her first."

"Why?"

"I want an opportunity, my dear, of telling Miss Henley that I have

been wicked enough to deceive her, before she finds it out for herself.

I may hope she will forgive me, if I confess everything."

The doctor laughed: "What the devil does it matter whether she forgives

you or not?"

"It matters a great deal."

"Why, you talk as if you were fond of her!"

"I am."

The doctor's clouded intelligence was beginning to clear; he made a

smart reply: "Fond of her, and deceiving her--aha!"

"Yes," she said quietly, "that's just what it is. It has grown on me,

little by little; I can't help liking Miss Henley."

"Well," Mr. Vimpany remarked, "you are a fool!" He looked at her

cunningly. "Suppose I do make myself useful, what am I to gain by it?"

"Let us get back," she suggested, "to the gentleman who invited you to

dinner, and made you tipsy for his own purposes."

"I'll break every bone in his skin!"

"Don't talk nonsense! Leave Mr. Mountjoy to me."

"Do you take his part? I can tell you this. If I drank too much of

that poisonous French stuff, Mountjoy set me the example. He was

tipsy--as you call it--shamefully tipsy, I give you my word of honour.

What's the matter now?"




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