"Will that satisfy you?" asked Mr. Sheldrake, almost tenderly. "You know Alfred's handwriting. Will you come and see him now?"
"Forgive me for my suspicions," said Lily, almost distracted by conflicting doubts; "I will come with you. But I must send a line to my grandfather first, explaining my absence."
"Not explaining," said Mr. Sheldrake, placing writing-materials before her; "no mention must be made of Alfred or me."
Lily wrote hurriedly:
"Dear, dear Grandfather,--I am compelled to go away suddenly for a little while. Do not be anxious about me. I will return soon, and you will know that I have done right. Tell Felix this; I dare not explain now.--Your loving child,--Lily."
"The messenger who brought my note to you will take it," said Mr. Sheldrake. "If you can contrive to look less sad--if you could even smile--as we go out, it might avert suspicion, should any one have been on the watch."
They went out of the public-house together, and Lily called a sad smile to her lips, although her heart was fainting within her at the prospect of Alfred's danger. The messenger who had brought Mr. Sheldrake's note was outside, talking to his companions. She hurried to him, and giving him the paper she had written to her grandfather, asked him to deliver it, putting sixpence into his hand at the same time. The next moment she was in the cab.
"One moment," Mr. Sheldrake said to her hurriedly, "I want to settle with the landlady."
He had seen the messenger who was to deliver Lily's note to her grandfather go into the public-house; Mr. Sheldrake followed him.
"The young lady has changed her mind," he said to the man; "give me the letter back. Here is a shilling from her."