Love to Virginia.
Your affectionate father,
EDWARD CLINTON.
Dick's face was grave enough when he looked up from this missive, and handed it, without a word, to Virginia.
"Rachel Amberley!" she exclaimed.
"Yes—and Susan," said Dick. "Trouble indeed! Trouble and mystery! I wish the Governor had told me what it is. Just like him to keep us on tenterhooks for hours! We shall have to start early, Virginia."
Virginia was frightened. "But, Dick dear, what does it mean?" she cried.
He went and stood at the window, looking out over the sea. His face was very grave. "It means," he said slowly, "that Susan was concerned, somehow, in that Amberley business; and she has found it out, and is asking for money to keep it dark."
"But how could she have been concerned in it? Oh, how dreadful, Dick!"
"She was at Brummels at the time." He pieced his thoughts together slowly. "Perhaps she knew, and took money to hold her tongue. She wanted money almost as much as the other woman. She did something she ought not to have done; the Governor says so. Something that she could have been punished for, or this Amberley woman wouldn't have any grounds to go on. She has been punished, and can't be punished any more—for that. She could for blackmail, though. She says the Governor gave way to her. That would have been extraordinarily foolish. He refused afterwards, though—seems to have told her to go to the devil. I'm glad he did that. Lord, how he must have been rushed! I wish I'd been there to lend him a hand."
"Oh, poor Mr. Clinton! But what can she do, Dick, this woman?"