“Why, you see, my dear,” said Moll, “as you weren’t on speaking terms, I thought I might risk it, as each of you would suppose the other had asked me. And so I did; and so it turned out; and I’ve had a good time, a killing time, and I thank you both for it. And I’m glad to see your little difference is made up at last, and to know that I’m after all the one you’ve got to thank for it.”
“You?” cried her ladyship, with infinite scorn.
“Yes, me, my dear,” said Moll. “Now don’t be nasty about it. ’Twas I, you know, wrote all those letters and arranged this little mixture, by which you’ve come to profit.”
“You infamous creature!” said Kate. “Who suggested this trick to you?”
Hamilton, if he did not look, felt, supremely uncomfortable. But he need not have feared his confederate’s loyalty. “Honour amongst thieves” was a good enough motto for her.
“Kit,” said Mrs. Moll. “’Tis a rare little impy when it chooses.”
He breathed again. As for his Highness, he had already, realizing that he had been well fooled, and unwilling to risk any further compromising revelations, slipped quietly and unostentatiously away.
Kate breathed her disdain.
“I will know,” she began, and paused. Perhaps, after all, she did know—or guess. Her indignant eyes sought her cousin.
“Be wise,” said Hamilton, with a laugh, “and leave it at that. When all’s said, you know, ’tis very truth that she’s to thank, however she chose to work it, for this—this tender reconciliation.”