Baxter. This sort of thing is entirely contrary to my usual mode of life, but I will not be outfaced by a mere boy. (Rising.) I am prepared. (Going to her.)
Devenish. Speak, lady.
Belinda (speaking in a deep, mysterious voice). Gentlemen, ye put wild thoughts into my head. In sooth, I am minded to send ye forth upon a quest that is passing strange. Know ye that there is a maid journeyed hither, hight Robinson–whose–(in her natural voice) what's the old for aunt?
Baxter (hopefully). Mother's sister.
Belinda. You know, I think I shall have to explain this in ordinary language. You won't mind very much, will you, Mr. Devenish?
Devenish. It is the spirit of this which matters, not the language which clothes it.
Belinda. Oh, I'm so glad you think so. Well, now about Miss Robinson. She's my niece and she's just come to stay with me, and–poor girl–she's lost her father. Absolutely lost him. He disappeared ever such a long time ago, and poor Miss Robinson–Delia–naturally wants to find him. Poor girl! she can't think where he is.
Devenish (nobly). I will find him.
Belinda. Oh, thank you, Mr. Devenish; Miss Robinson would be so much obliged.
Baxter. Yes–er–but what have we to go upon? Beyond the fact that his name is Robinson—