She ignored the observation, and said:
“Mr. Carpentaria, what have you done with Cousin Ilam?”
“What?” he cried, amazed both by the question, and by the cold firmness with which it was put.
“I think you heard what I said,” she replied. “What have you done with Cousin Ilam? Where is he?”
“Miss Dartmouth, do you imagine for one instant that I know where Mr. Ilam is? I should only like to know where he is. I’m looking for him now. But I was not aware that the fact of his disappearance was known. Indeed, I meant it to be kept as secret as possible. I——”
“No, no,” she interrupted him. “I was hoping you would be frank. I thought you had an honest face, Mr. Carpentaria, and it is because of that that I have come—like this. I have just left your poor sister. She is in despair. She has told me all.” Carpentaria did not reply immediately. At last he repeated:
“Told you all? All what? You have soon become fast friends, you and Juliette.”
“It is possible,” said Pauline drily. “I have met your sister three times, but in seasons of distress we women are obliged to cling to each other. As for Miss D’Avray and me, we live next door to each other. What more natural than that I should call on her this evening? And finding her in a condition of—shall I say?—despair, what more natural than that I should ask her what was the matter, and what more natural, seeing that she has no women friends here, and is of a nature that demands sympathy, than that on the spur of the moment she should confide in me?”
“I assure you, Miss Dartmouth,” said Carpentaria, “that I was entirely unaware of my sister’s despair—as you call it. What precisely has she confided to you?”
“Why, about her engagement to Cousin Ilam, and your opposition.”