Sir Patrick held up a warning hand. Before a word more could be said between them they were silenced again by another interruption, The whist-party comprised Lady Lundie and the surgeon, playing as partners against Smith and Jones. Arnold sat behind the surgeon, taking a lesson in the game. One, Two, and Three, thus left to their own devices, naturally thought of the billiard-table; and, detecting Geoffrey asleep in his corner, advanced to disturb his slumbers, under the all-sufficing apology of "Pool." Geoffrey roused himself, and rubbed his eyes, and said, drowsily, "All right." As he rose, he looked at the opposite corner in which Sir Patrick and his niece were sitting. Blanche's self-possession, resolutely as she struggled to preserve it, was not strong enough to keep her eyes from turning toward Geoffrey with an expression which betrayed the reluctant interest that she now felt in him.
He stopped, noticing something entirely new in the look with which the young lady was regarding him.
"Beg your pardon," said Geoffrey. "Do you wish to speak to me?"
Blanche's face flushed all over. Her uncle came to the rescue.
"Miss Lundie and I hope you have slept well Mr. Delamayn," said Sir Patrick, jocosely.
"That's all."
"Oh? That's all?" said Geoffrey still looking at Blanche. "Beg your pardon again. Deuced long walk, and deuced heavy dinner.
Natural consequence--a nap."
Sir Patrick eyed him closely. It was plain that he had been honestly puzzled at finding himself an object of special attention on Blanche's part. "See you in the billiard-room?" he said, carelessly, and followed his companions out of the room--as usual, without waiting for an answer.
"Mind what you are about," said Sir Patrick to his niece. "That man is quicker than he looks. We commit a serious mistake if we put him on his guard at starting."
"It sha'n't happen again, uncle," said Blanche. "But think of _his_ being in Anne's confidence, and of _my_ being shut out of it!"
"In his friend's confidence, you mean, my dear; and (if we only avoid awakening his suspicion) there is no knowing how soon he may say or do something which may show us who his friend is."
"But he is going back to his brother's to-morrow--he said so at dinner-time."
"So much the better. He will be out of the way of seeing strange things in a certain young lady's face. His brother's house is within easy reach of this; and I am his legal adviser. My experience tells me that he has not done consulting me yet--and that he will let out something more next time. So much for our chance of seeing the light through Mr. Delamayn--if we can't see it in any other way. And that is not our only chance, remember. I have something to tell you about Bishopriggs and the lost letter."
"Is it found?"
"No. I satisfied myself about that--I had it searched for, under my own eye. The letter is stolen, Blanche; and Bishopriggs has got it. I have left a line for him, in Mrs. Inchbare's care. The old rascal is missed already by the visitors at the inn, just as I told you he would be. His mistress is feeling the penalty of having been fool enough to vent her ill temper on her head-waiter. She lays the whole blame of the quarrel on Miss Silvester, of course. Bishopriggs neglected every body at the inn to wait on Miss Silvester. Bishopriggs was insolent on being remonstrated with, and Miss Silvester encouraged him--and so on.
The result will be--now Miss Silvester has gone--that Bishopriggs will return to Craig Fernie before the autumn is over. We are sailing with wind and tide, my dear. Come, and learn to play whist."
He rose to join the card-players. Blanche detained him.
"You haven't told me one thing yet," she said. "Whoever the man may be, is Anne married to him?"
"Whoever the man may be," returned Sir Patrick, "he had better not attempt to marry any body else."
So the niece unconsciously put the question, and so the uncle unconsciously gave the answer on which depended the whole happiness of Blanche's life to come, The "man!" How lightly they both talked of the "man!" Would nothing happen to rouse the faintest suspicion--in their minds or in Arnold's mind--that Arnold was the "man" himself?
"You mean that she _is_ married?" said Blanche.
"I don't go as far as that."
"You mean that she is _not_ married?"
"I don't go so far as _that._"
"Oh! the law! "
"Provoking, isn't it, my dear? I can tell you, professionally, that (in my opinion) she has grounds to go on if she claims to be the man's wife. That is what I meant by my answer; and, until we know more, that is all I can say."
"When shall we know more? When shall we get the telegram?"
"Not for some hours yet. Come, and learn to play whist."
"I think I would rather talk to Arnold, uncle, if you don't mind."
"By all means! But don't talk to him about what I have been telling you to-night. He and Mr. Delamayn are old associates, remember; and he might blunder into telling his friend what his friend had better not know. Sad (isn't it?) for me to be instilling these lessons of duplicity into the youthful mind. A wise person once said, 'The older a man gets the worse he gets.'
That wise person, my dear, had me in his eye, and was perfectly right."
He mitigated the pain of that confession with a pinch of snuff, and went to the whist table to wait until the end of the rubber gave him a place at the game.
