These astounding invitations almost took my breath away, and as I was endeavouring to invent some polite excuse he resumed. “Not a soul need know about the little expedition; it’s only a run of a hundred miles, and if we went next week—there is a full moon.”
“Thank you very much,” I said at last, “but I could not possibly accompany you to see Mrs. Hayes-Billington, although I am really sorry for her loneliness.”
“Then why not come, my dear young lady? Your visit would do her so much good. It would be a charity, for, upon my soul, she looks as if her heart were breaking. No one except your brother will ever hear of our trip. It will be quite under the rose! Come, come! Why not do good by stealth?”
“I am afraid I do not care to do anything by stealth,” I answered stiffly.
“And what about false pretences?” he demanded, now changing his tone, and once more patting me on the arm.
“What do you mean?” I asked sharply.
“Well, here is a beautiful young lady”—he rolled his eyes expressively—“she is the belle of Secunderabad—as even the women allow. She shines like a star; the station is full of her praises, she is so sweet and unspoiled; so simple and so innocent! Her singing and her dancing are the admiration of everyone who has the happiness to be in her company. She is supposed to have just arrived from England—yet all the time the poor foolish people are being deceived. Previous to her arrival here, the beautiful innocent young lady has been living in a hill station with a notoriously bad woman. Of course I shall keep all this as secret as the grave—but, my darling girl, what are you going to do for me?”
For a moment I was too stunned to speak or to stir. At last I got up, walked over to the door leading into the veranda, and beckoning to our butler, said:
“Please order this gentleman’s car!”
Then I turned my back on Mr. Balthasar and retired to my own apartment, feeling, as Mrs. Paget-Taylor had once expressed it, “completely unhinged.”