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Updated: June 21, 2025
He had never dreamed that they would ever meet again; but, now they had, he saw that the game was up. There was no hope of escape. He was being taken to meet Sir Henry Heyburn, the very last man in all the world he wished to face. His sallow countenance was drawn, his lips were thin and bloodless, and upon his cheeks were two red spots which showed that he was now in a deadly terror.
The knowledge that Lady Heyburn and Flockart would exult over her downfall and exile to that tiny house in a sleepy little Northamptonshire village did not trouble her. Her enemies had triumphed. She had played the game and lost, just as she might have lost at billiards or at bridge, for she was a thorough sportswoman.
"Simply that among my father's accounts a short time back I found two cheques drawn by Lady Heyburn in your favour." "And you told your father of them, of course!" he exclaimed with sarcasm. "A remarkable discovery, eh?" "I told him nothing," was her bold reply. "Not because I wished to shield you, but because I did not wish to pain him unduly. He has worries sufficient, in all conscience."
Don't be a silly fool," he urged. "You've surely had time to think over it?" "No, I haven't." "The girl knows nothing. So what have you to fear?" he endeavoured to assure her. Lady Heyburn shrugged her shoulders. "How can you prove that she knows nothing?" "Oh, she has eyes for nobody but the old man," he laughed. "To-night is an example.
Through the morning hours she had lain awake trying to make a resolve. But, alas! she dared not tell the truth; she was in deadly fear of Flockart's reprisals. That morning, at nine o'clock, Lady Heyburn and Flockart had held hurried consultation in secret, at which he had explained to her what had occurred. "Excellent!" she had remarked briefly. "But we must now have a care, my dear friend.
"Well, because I have a reason," she replied in a strained voice "a strong reason." "You've grown suddenly shy, afraid of chaff, it seems." "My mother is, I fear, not altogether well disposed towards you, Walter," was her quick response. "Dad is very fond of you, as you well know; but Lady Heyburn has other views for me, I think."
Rising, he walked across to the writing-table, and taking a piece of note-paper bearing the Heyburn crest, rapidly pencilled some memoranda upon it. He was, it seemed, taking a copy of one of the documents. Suddenly she sprang towards him, crying, "Give me that paper! Give it to me at once, I say! It is my father's."
A convention, as Senator Heyburn recently pointed out in the Senate, is "bigger than the Constitution" and might conceivably amend what is declared in that instrument not to be amendable, by providing that the States should be represented in the Senate in proportion to population.
Only a year ago he told me that he had had an application from a well-known historical writer for access to them, as he was about to write a book upon the family." "Then you know Sir Henry well?" "Very well indeed. I'm often his guest, and frequently shoot over the place." "I've heard that Lady Heyburn is a very pretty woman," remarked the other, glancing at his friend with a peculiar look.
Though bedraggled and dishevelled, she was nevertheless delightful, and treated her sudden immersion with careless unconcern. Why had Krail attempted to get rid of her in that manner? What motive had he? They reached the farmhouse, where Mrs. Wyatt, a stout, ruddy-faced woman, detecting their approach, met them upon the threshold. "Lawks, Miss Heyburn! why, what's happened?" she asked in alarm.
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