"I do, and I'm frightfully sorry I couldn't get here before, for I know what girls are when they're disappointed…but really-I'm so out of breath with running here…you will excuse me, won't you? The trains, as usual, are running just at the wrong time…You see how distressed I am with hurrying."
"Never mind. Why couldn't he come himself?"
"He's unwell…No-not badly. A chill on the liver, or something of the kind. Of course, we know he's not as young as he was. He wanted to come, but I wouldn't hear of it. rather than that he should risk more serious complications, I offered to act as messenger myself…Shall we sit down?"
"You're sure it's nothing serious?"
"Oh, my dear!…It's only a cold. He'll be all right to-morrow again."
They sat down side by side on one of the public seats. Mrs. Richborough made a feint of recovering her breath, which Isbel did not condescend to notice.
"Have you brought a note from him, or is it a verbal message?"
"It's a letter, my dear. I'm going to find it in a minute." She opened her hand-bag, and peered into it with provoking leisureliness…"Do you know, I feel quite an intrigante. Of course, it isn't a romance, but I've been amusing myself all the way here by imagining it really to be one. I've a fearfully romantic disposition."
"Oh, it's only about his house, which my aunt proposes to buy."
"How disillusioning!…So you act as her business manager?"
"I help her sometimes. Is that the note?"
"It's a little crumpled, but otherwise quite intact."
Isbel turned the large, square envelope over in her hand; it was unaddressed, but sealed with yellow wax. Contact with Mrs. Richborough's scent-sachet in her bag had invested it with a heavy feminine odour. She examined the sealing-wax more closely than was altogether courteous.
"Does he want me to read it now, and return an answer?"
"He is rather expecting one, I fancy. Don't study me, my dear-I shan't look."
Isbel still fingered the envelope. "You're not in his confidence, naturally?"
"That's quite a horrid question!" The widow's voice remained soft, but her eye was hard and insolent. "I'm afraid we haven't arrived at that stage of intimacy yet."
"I didn't know."
She hesitated no longer, but at once broke open the envelope. Her companion discreetly bent down to lift and minutely inspect the hem of her skirt; she allowed it to fall again gracefully, and then produced from her bad a little silver mirror, in which she critically scrutinised her reflected features.
In addition to a letter, there was something wrapped in white paper, and this Isbel opened first. It proved to be a hairpin. She gazed at in blank astonishment, and then hurriedly thrust it back inside the envelope, before Mrs. Richborough should see. The letter itself was in Judge's firm, precise hand-writing, and ran as follows:
"My dear Miss Loment.
"I am not quite the thing to-day, so please forgive my non-attendance. Mrs. R. has very kindly offered to run over to see you and bring you this letter with enclosure. The latter was picked up-you know where. The pencil-note I brought back with me from the same place related, I am reluctant to inform you, only to my own personal feelings, and I have taken the liberty to destroy it; but I am afraid that your hypothesis is, after all, correct. If you are able to identify the article enclosed, we must regard the evident as conclusive.
"I now propose that we shall go over there to-morrow (Thursday) together. Mrs. R. has kindly volunteered to accompany us, and, if you think well of the proposition, perhaps you will fix up things with her. She knows nothing of the affair in question. Very probably I have no right to ask you to come, and I do not do so on my own account-which I believe you understand. But I know what anxiety the whole business is causing you, and must cause you so I thought it only fair that the opportunity should be placed within your reach, should you desire to avail yourself of it. if you are unable to arrange for to-morrow, perhaps you could give Mrs. R. another date?
"It is unnecessary to impress on you the desirability of destroying this letter at the earliest moment.
"Very sincerely yours.
"H.J."
Isbel read through the missive twice, then returned it thoughtfully to the envelope and placed the latter in her handbag.
"Thanks, Mrs. Richborough!"
The widow, who was in the act of adjusting her veil, turned about with a quick, impulsive smile.
"Everything satisfactory, my dear?"
"As regards the main business-yes. But he says something about our all going over to Runhill Court to-morrow…"
"Do let's! I'm positively dying to see that place."
"Why?"
"I dote on these ancient family houses. I don't know why. I'm more than a little mediumistic-that may be one reason."
"If you're so keen, you needn't wait for me, I suppose?"
Mrs. Richbourough's smile faded. "I suppose not, if I could find another woman. Unluckily, I know nobody in this part of the world. My own set happens to be up North."
"Is there no one at the hotel?"
"I'm just a little exclusive, I fear…Why shouldn't you come, my dear? What are you afraid of?"
"You don't know, of course-I've already seen that place three times. There are limits to one's enthusiasm…I don't think I'll come, thanks!"
"This is truly unexpected. Most girls would be charmed at the prospect of another pleasure party."
"The only pleasure I can see in it is the pleasure of your society, Mrs. Richborough. Of course, that is a great inducement."
"No, don't be horride, my dear. Let me put it in a different form. Perhaps you're not keen on coming; but do it to please Mr. Judge. The poor man's so proud of his house, and so delighted-so almost childishly delighted at the opportunity of exhibiting it to his friends. For some unknown reason, he chooses to set a very high value on my artistic opinion, and I have promised to tell him honestly exactly what I think of Runhill Court…And now, because you're afraid of being a little bored, you're going to dash all our plans to the ground."
Isbel laughed. "The long and short of it is I'm not wanted for my own sake, but only to act as chaperon to you."
The widow, too laughed - so energetically that her long, white face became quite strange to look at.
"It sounds rather weird for an unmarried girl to chaperon an experienced widow, but you know, my dear, two women can always go where one can't. After all, I have my reputation to lose, just as much as the youngest and most innocent of you…You will come now, won't you?"
"I'm still rather at sea, Mrs. Richborough. Is all this solicitude on your account, or Mr. Judge's?"
"On his-because I'm so sorry for him. The poor man is so lonely. He's lost his wife, he has no friends to speak of, and he lives all by himself in a seaside hotel, where he's surrounded by a set of entirely new faces every day. We women ought to do what we can for him. I know he can't be precisely a congenial companion for a girl your age, but if you'll only act the good Samaritan and come with us I give you my solemn word of honour I'll take as much of his conversation off your hands as I can manage."
"Oh, I don't doubt that in the very least."
"Then you consent?"
"No, I refuse," said Isbel, drily.
"It's too bad of you!…Won't you give a reason? I must tell him something."
"Tell him I don't care to. He'll understand. Tell him I don't care to go running about the country with total strangers. I don't like it, and my friends wouldn't like it…Thanks for coming over, Mrs. Richborough! There's nothing else you want to say, is there?" She prepared to get up.