“Here?”
“Yes. It seems that he tramped here. I am afraid that his object was to try and see you. He wants money, of course. I happened to be out in the woods this afternoon, and saw him.
“No, no!” added Philip Baddock quickly, in response to an instinctive gasp of pain from Lady Molly; “you need not have the slightest fear. My nephew is as safe with me as he would be in your own house. I brought him here, for he was exhausted with fatigue and want of food. None of my servants know of his presence in the house except Felkin, whom I can trust. By to-morrow he will have rested. … We’ll make a start in the very early morning in my car; we’ll get to Liverpool before midday. De Mazareen shall wear Felkin’s clothes—no one will know him. One of the Baddock steamers is leaving for Buenos Ayres the same afternoon, and I can arrange with the captain. You need not have the slightest fear,” he repeated, with simple yet earnest emphasis; “I pledge you my word that De Mazareen will be safe.”
“I should like to thank you,” she murmured.
“Please don’t,” he rejoined with a sad smile. “It is a great happiness to me to be able to do this. … I know that you—you cared for him at one time. … I wish you had known and trusted me in those days—but I am glad of this opportunity which enables me to tell you that, even had my father signed his last will and testament, I should have shared his fortune with De Mazareen. The man whom you honoured with your love need never have resorted to crime in order to gain a fortune.”
Philip Baddock paused. His eyes were fixed on Lady Molly with unmistakable love and an appeal for sympathy. I had no idea that he cared for her—nor had she, I am quite sure. Her heart belonged solely to the poor, fugitive convict, but she could not fail, I thought, to be touched by the other man’s obvious sincerity and earnestness.
There was silence in the room for a few moments. Only the old clock in its Sheraton case ticked on in solemn imperturbability.
Lady Molly turned her luminous eyes on the man who had just made so simple, so touching a profession of love. Was she about to tell him that she was no longer free, that she bore the name of the man whom the law had ostracised and pronounced a criminal—who had even now, by this daring attempt at escape, added a few years to his already long term of punishment and another load to his burden of shame?
“Do you think,” she asked quietly, “that I might speak to Captain de Mazareen for a few moments without endangering his safety?”
Mr. Baddock did not reply immediately. He seemed to be pondering over the request. Then he said: