“Look here, my boy,” he began, “I’ve found your aunt.”
“Well, that’s very nice of you,” said Cyril, solemnly. “That’s a friendly act. May I ask what aunt?”
“Mrs. Scales,” said Matthew. “You know—”
“Not the—” Cyril’s face changed.
“Yes, precisely!” said Matthew, feeling that he was not being cheated of the legitimate joy caused by making a sensation. Assuredly he had made a sensation in Victoria Grove.
When he had related the whole story, Cyril said: “Then she doesn’t know you know?”
“I don’t think so. No, I’m sure she doesn’t. She may guess.”
“But how can you be certain you haven’t made a mistake? It may be that—”
“Look here, my boy,” Matthew interrupted him. “I’ve not made any mistake.”
“But you’ve no proof.”