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The whole adventure seemed a hideous nightmare. And yet it was all so real. But how did I come to be in St. Malo? How did I travel from London? "Sister," I said presently. "What is the date of to-day?" "The eleventh of December," she replied. The affair at Stretton Street had occurred on the night of November 7th, over a month before! "And how long have I been here?"
I was there for twelve months or more. He gave me work to do in the school." "Will you mention that to my uncle? He is very fond of Padre Cristoforo." "I thought," said Stretton, colouring a little, and almost as though he were excusing himself, "that it would be useless to give the name of a Romanist Prior as a referee to Mr. Heron. Most people would think it an objection in itself?"
She will marry." "Marry Brian Luttrell, perhaps." "If she marries him as Mr. Stretton, she must take the consequences." "Well," said Hugo, "I must confess, Mr. Vasari, that I do not understand you. In one breath you say you would not injure Brian by a hair's-breadth; in another you propose to leave him and his wife in poverty if he marries Miss Murray."
"Why, I have heard my uncle mention San Stefano as the place where Brian was born. They lived there for some months. My aunt had an illness there, which nobody ever liked to talk about. Hum! What connection has Mr. John Stretton with San Stefano, I wonder? Let me see." He spread the letter carefully out before him, turned up the lamp, and began to read.
The houses were all of them fine town mansions of the aristocracy, most of them with deep porticos and deeper areas. Stretton Street was essentially one inhabited by the highest in London society. I had passed through it many times as a Londoner does in making short cuts without even noticing the name. The Londoner's geography is usually only by the landmarks of street corners and "tube" stations.
Put her in between us, Stretton, Indian file, and we'll take her down." Women are queer things.
Heron, getting up, and buttoning his yellow gloves reflectively. "I should have no objection. I judge for myself, don't you know, by the face and the manner and all that sort of thing; but it's a different thing when it comes to dealing with women, you know. They are so particular " "I am afraid I should not suit Mrs. Heron's requirements," said Stretton, in a very quiet tone.
The blue spectacles were even a better disguise than the grey hair and the beard; if Mr. Stretton had worn them when he was standing at the railway station door, Hugo would never have been haunted by that look of recognition in his eyes. "Mary has made a mistake," said Mr. Stretton to one of the boys, in a curiously-muffled voice. "Take this gentleman up to the drawing-room, Harry."
"And a fine fellow he was, too, and one of the best for cheering of us up with his stories and songs; and not above a bit of a prayer, too, when the worst came to the worst. I heard him myself." "No sign of your friend here, Mr. Heron, I'm afraid," whispered the ship's officer. "I am afraid not. Was there a passenger on board the Falcon called Stretton." "No, sir. I'm sure o' that."
"I do not know much about you," he said, "but I have reason to believe that your name is not Stretton that you were recently travelling under the name of Brian Luttrell, and that you have a special interest in the village of San Stefano. Is that not true, my friend?" "Yes," said Brian slowly. "It is true." The Prior's face wore an expression of mild triumph.
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