“He appears to be a much more acute, daring fellow than we were led to suppose.”
“The skill, perseverance, and ingenuity he has displayed have surprised everybody,” answered the detective, who, after some further conversation, took his departure.
“And now Mr. Chicknell,” said the earl, shortly after Wrench had left, “in dealing with the Larchgrove murder I am actuated by a sense of justice and my duty to the public as a magistrate. There is a private matter which more immediately concerns me—doubtless you will be able to guess what this is.”
“You allude to your grand-daughter, I presume,” observed the lawyer, in an undertone.
“Precisely—you guess rightly; but the matter rests more specially with the young man she was imprudent and indiscreet enough to marry.”
Mr. Chicknell nodded. He thought that was the safest course to adopt, very well knowing to what his client’s observations were tending.
“I say again the matter rests more with this young engineer—this—ahem, Gatliffe.”
The attorney nodded again.
“You see, Chicknell,” said the other in a confidential tone, “I really don’t think matters can go on thus. There is an imperative necessity to bring them to an issue. Aveline is now—if I may make use of the term—naturalised; she feels her position—is proud of it, and has, I hope, nothing to regret—she certainly ought not to; but still something remains to be done, not only to secure her fealty to me, but happiness for herself.”
“Happiness?” repeated the lawyer.