"Yes; Sir Anthony Stretton"--and the name struck so oddly upon Pamela's ears that, serious as at this moment she was, she laughed. "Sir Anthony Stretton turned away from the steps of his house. You were distressed, Miss Mardale: I, on the contrary, said that nothing better could have happened. You wish to ask me why I said that?"
"Yes," said Pamela; "I am very anxious to know. Millie is my friend. I am, in a sort of way, too, responsible for her;" and as Mr. Mudge looked surprised, she repeated the word--"Yes, responsible. And I am rather troubled." She spoke with a little hesitation. There was a frown upon her forehead, a look of perplexity in her dark eyes. She was reluctant to admit that her friend was in any danger or needed any protection from her own weakness. The freemasonry of her sex impelled her to silence. On the other hand, she was at her wits' end what to do. And she had confidence in her companion's discretion; she determined to speak frankly.
"It is not only your remark which troubles me," she said, "but I called on Millie the next afternoon."
"Oh, you did?" exclaimed Mr. Mudge.
"Yes; I asked after Tony. Millie had not seen him, and did not expect him. She showed me letters from his solicitors empowering her to do what she liked with the house and income, and a short letter from Tony himself, written on the Perseverance, to the same effect."
She did not explain to Mr. Mudge what the Perseverance was, and he asked no questions.
"I told Millie," she continued, "that Tony had returned, but she refused to believe it. I told her when and where I had seen him."
"You did that?" said Mr. Mudge. "Wait a moment." He saw and understood Pamela's reluctance to speak. He determined to help her out. "Let me describe to you what followed. She stared blankly at you and asked you to repeat what you had said?"
"Yes," replied Pamela, in surprise; "that is just what she did."
"And when you had repeated it, she turned a little pale, perhaps was disconcerted, perhaps a little--afraid."