"Well, my dear young lady-I'm as wise as ever."
"But please wait a moment, Sir Langham. On another occasion Papa and I arranged to sup there again. This cabman was there once more. Sir Edward put me into the hansom and gave the driver our address. Then he said good night, and kissed me as I sat in the cab. He walked straight off to his club, having an appointment."
"I confess I do not see how any trouble could come out of all that, my child. With Sir Edward, your father, you were quite safe anywhere. Besides you have already so perfect a character among your friends for prudence-I hear it everywhere."
"But here is where the trouble is. You are perfectly aware my mother is an invalid. She has no sympathy for poor papa. Of course, Sir Langham, I am speaking to you in all confidence. My mother is not affectionate to me, her only daughter. Strange as it may appear, she more than dislikes me. Her illness is to a great extent self-caused. She has a habit which we fear is rooted."
"Yes, yes, I have heard that before. Well?"
"If my mother were to hear that my papa had taken me to such a place for supper, she would be furious. She would make his life more wretched and unbearable than it is. She would never rest until she had fastened on his a character for frequenting fast places, and even worse-for permitting his daughter to accompany him! You know how good and noble he is? It would kill him. She must not know."
The tears stood in my eyes. I am told I am at such moments more seraphically beautiful than usual.
"Now I understand. Confound the fellow! He has taken your companion for a friend. He thinks he has a pull out of the affair. Putting it all together, with my knowledge of the world, I can see his drift. You are right, your mother must not know. Leave it to me. You have done quite right to come to me."
The magistrate touched his gong. The Inspector entered. He laid a sheet of parchment and an oval badge with a strap on the table. He stood awaiting orders.
"Walker, please bring that cabman in here and leave us together."
A few seconds later the driver with the hare-lip stood before the police magistrate. His old air of insolent triumph had given place to a pallid and dejected look which plainly told his tale of apprehension and alarm.
Sir Langham glanced at the parchment.
"This is your license is it, my man? I see it has one endorsement already. You have been here before."
"It wasn't my fault, please your worship."
"Of course not. The present business is, however, likely to have considerably more serious consequences for you. This young lady charges you with demanding a sum of ten pounds from her under a threat. Now, do you know where that takes you, my man? If proved, it means under the new act six months if I have the case before me, but-stop! Listen-don't interrupt. If I send you for trial at the Old Bailey, as I certainly should, it would mean five years penal servitude."
A still more significant change came over the cabman. He actually trembled. I thought he was going to faint. He steadied himself by leaning his arm against the doorpost.
"I hope the young lady will not go on with it. I hope you will forgive me, miss-I promise."
"Never mind about your promises, my man. If this young lady, whom you have mistaken and insulted, decides not to prosecute you, you may think yourself sufficiently lucky. You can go. There are your badge and your license. I shall not put on another endorsement, but I shall make a note of this affair, and if ever you come here again, you shall lose your license altogether, for it will be canceled."
As soon as we were alone, Sir Langham laughed a quiet little chuckling laugh.
"You will never have any more trouble from that fellow. But, how in the world did you get him here?"
When I had told the magistrate my little ruse he nearly choked himself with hilarity.
"'Pon my honor you are a clever girl! Sir Edward may well be proud of you. They ought to have you in the force."
"I am so very much indebted to you, Sir Langham, for all you have done. I hardly know how to thank you sufficiently. I dared not tell poor Papa. He would have been so upset. He would probably never have taken me out with him again."
"Well, well, never mind. You have extricated yourself most properly. The matter was not at all simple. I shall keep the silly little secret of yours, my child, and promise not to blackmail you save for one chaste salute on that charming little hand."
He rose and gallantly raised my hand to his lips.
"Mind and bring your papa next time. This interview will remain dark and between ourselves. Now good bye. We have got through all the summonses today in good time, but there are some applications to which I must attend in person. Next time you come I will have a chop for you-a loin chop, mind, not a chump."
As I passed out, Inspector Walker was waiting in the passage. I gave him my hand to say adieu. He asked if he might accompany me to be quite sure my friend the man with the hare-lip was not in the neighborhood. I gave him permission in a burning glance. He was certainly a fine man.
"I suppose you are always engaged at this branch?"
"Oh, dear no, miss, my duties take me everywhere. Sometimes I have plenty of leisure time at my disposal. It depends."
"Does your leisure ever lead you to the park? I am generally there for my morning stroll at ten, principally in the walk behind the statue of Achilles."
"How odd! So am I-is it just possible I may have the happiness to see you again, Miss L?"
"Quite possible-even tomorrow, if the weather is fine. But I cannot be seen, you know, under such circumstances."
"Of course not. I understand that." He looked down into my face. "I may then hope to see you again. I shall be in plain clothes."
"Yes. Good bye!"
Chapter 2
"Here is news for us all, Eveline. I have a letter from Percy. He is likely to be home soon on leave."
"Oh, Papa! What fun! I am so glad. It is so long since I have seen him. How he will be altered! He was only a boy when last I saw him and bid him adieu. Now he is a man and a soldier."
"There is his letter. He has got several steps too. He thinks it likely he will be moved into the other battalion of his regiment."
The letter was full of joy at the prospect of coming home soon. He was very young for the service. He was clever, however. Interest was pushing him along. I wondered what he would think of me. He had only been in Canada a year, but I had been abroad when he joined his regiment.
It was breakfast time. Papa and I sat alone. Lady L was indisposed. Dr. Proctor was in attendance. I heard his step descending the stairs. Papa advanced to meet him. They shook hands.
"Much about the same. Yes, these cases are extremely difficult and delicate. You must do all you can to keep down the stimulants. Plenty of beef-tea-exercise-fresh air. We have a very delicate duty to perform, Sir Edward. We doctors, of course, cannot enter into the domestic difficulties of our patients. We must keep aloof-my sympathy, however, I may tell you, is entirely devoted to this case."
"It is not so much your sympathy which I would invoke, Dr. Proctor, as your practical suggestions, your deliberate opinion on the course I should pursue. I am much perplexed-very much distressed."
"Very difficult-very delicate. Better let me know if any recurrence of the excitement supervenes. Meanwhile sedatives-bromides-Ah, how do you do?"
He had caught sight of little me in the doorway. I bowed. He had been speaking in a low confidential tone intended for Papa's ear. There was a callous, selfish ring in his voice, which never left the pompous professional key-never sounded the true ring of brotherly sympathy as from man to man. Dr. Proctor seemed glad to change the subject.