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Kelson made an irresolute movement as though wavering between the implied invitation to quit the room and an inclination not to run away from the grim business. He glanced at Gifford, who showed no sign of moving. "Just as you like," he replied in a hushed voice. "Perhaps we had better stay here till you come back." "All right," Morriston assented.
"Then they must be his," Morriston concluded. "And where is he without them?" Painswick added with a laugh. "Dead of cold?" "It is altogether quite mysterious," Morriston observed with a puzzled air. "He can't be here still." "Hardly," his sister replied. "You know him?" she asked Kelson. "Quite casually.
If you are prepared to face the odium, professional and social, of an exposure " Henshaw interrupted him with a wave of the hand. "You may apply that to yourself and to your friend, Miss Morriston," he said sharply. "I can take care of myself, thank you." Gifford shrugged. "Very well, then. There is no more to be said." He crossed the room and took up his hat.
And he looked round the company with a knowing smile. "What do you mean, Painswick?" Morriston asked eagerly. "Has anything more come to light?" "Only we have had a lady here, Miss Elyot, who says she danced with the poor fellow." "I only just took a turn with him, for the waltz was nearly over when he asked me," said the girl thus alluded to. "Did you wear a green dress?" Kelson asked eagerly.
"Don't quarrel with him, for heaven's sake," she entreated in the same tone, under her breath, as the disturbing presence drew near. There was a strange excitement in her voice, though none in the set face. "I think your brother is looking for you, Miss Morriston," Henshaw said in his even voice when he was within a dozen paces of them.
It seemed as though the complete alteration in the man's attitude and manner might indicate that he had got the solution of the mystery, and no longer had that problem to worry him. Certainly there was little to find fault with in him to-day. One thing, however, Gifford did not like, and that was Henshaw's rather obvious admiration for Edith Morriston.
That she had consented to meet him secretly and listen to him went to show that she felt her position to be weak. If so she might need help, an adviser, a man to stand between her and her persecutor. Thinking out the situation strenuously Gifford determined to seek a private interview with Edith Morriston and offer himself as her protector.
"You have got, unless you wish very unpleasant consequences to follow, to render an account to me, as Miss Morriston's friend, of your abominable conduct towards her. But not here. You had better come to my room at the hotel at three o'clock this afternoon and hear what I shall have to say. And in the meantime you will address Miss Morriston only at the risk of a horsewhipping."
"Tell me about the Morristons, Harry," Gifford said. "He is a very good fellow, isn't he?" "Dick Morriston? One of the best. Straight goer to hounds and straight in every other capacity, I should say. You know they used to live at Friar's Norton, near here, before they bought your uncle's place." "Yes, I know. What is the sister like?" "A fine, handsome girl," Kelson answered, without enthusiasm.
So it was arranged. Gifford spent the morning in a stroll about the familiar neighbourhood, and when luncheon time came they all met at Wynford Place. Miss Morriston was not present. Her brother apologized for her absence, saying she had been obliged to keep an engagement to lunch with a friend, but that she had promised to return quite early in the afternoon. Mr.
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