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Thornton Daverill, whose name is Maisie.... And old Mrs. Prichard's name is Maisie.... And this letter is in the keeping of old Mrs. Prichard." He left gaps, for his hearer to understand. "Good God!" exclaimed Gwen. "Then old Mrs. Prichard is not mad." She could only see that much for the moment no details. "Oh, be quiet a moment and let me think."
His acumen had gone the length of perceiving in the stranger's name a resemblance to the version of it heard more plainly in the Court at Hammersmith. This correction had gratified and augmented his secret sense of importance, without leading to any inquiries. Uncle Mo accepted Davenant as more intrinsically probable than Daffodil or Daverill, and forgot both names promptly.
She felt that she was keeping in view what is due to the sensitive conscience of an honourable person. The note she read was short, written so that the lines fell thus: "RALPH DAVERILL The police are on the look out for you and it is now not safe to come to the Court This is written by your wife to say you will run great risk of being took if you come For you to know who I am I write my name
"Wrong you are, for once, Jerry! 'Twarn't no more Mackerel than it was Camberwell." Said Mr. Jerry: "Take an even tizzy on it, Mo?" He twisted the paper about to recover the paragraph, and found it. "Here we are! 'Ralph Daverill, alias Thornton, alias Wix, alias! ..." "Never mind his ale-houses, Jerry. That's the name I'm consarned with Daverill.... What's the matter with M'riar?"
This was utilised ingeniously for the establishment of alibi's, the name of Wix being adopted by both. Daverill had, however, really behaved in a very shady way, having achieved this man's execution for a capital crime of his own.
And the sooner she knew the whole now, the better! It might have been cruelty to a bad end that made such beauty so pale and resolute as Gwen's, as she said without faltering: "The name is your mother's name Mrs. Thornton Daverill. Your father's name was Thornton. Now open the letter and read!" "Oh my lady it makes me afraid!... What can it be?" "Open the letter and read!"
This was the case for Michael, though he had been silent at the time about the Inquest, had been unable to resist the temptation to correct Uncle Moses when the old boy asked: "Wot did he say was the blooming name of the party he was after Daverill Daffodil?" His answer was: "No it warn't! Davenant was what he said."
He read it in a vicious undertone, biting off each word savagely and throwing it at her. She had rallied a little, but again looked more frightened than ever. It cost her a gasping effort to say: "You are reading it wrong! Do give an eye to the words, Daverill." "Read it yourself," he retorted, and threw the letter across the table.
But what would be more natural and probable than that if Daverill married again, he should make use of the name a second time? He might have married again more than once, for anything Granny Marrable knew. So might his widow might have married a man named Prichard. Why not? Those were considerations she need not weigh or speculate about.
There was, however, about Daverill a redeeming point. He was incorrigibly bad. He never played false to his father the Devil, and the lusts of his father he did do, to the very last, never disgracing himself by the slightest wavering towards repentance.
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