She had not had time to settle to any occupation when Mr. Heriton came in, breathless and excited. He so rarely returned before evening that his daughter expressed her surprise. But, taking no notice of her, he opened his desk and began to write a note. After several attempts, which his impatience and shaking hand rendered abortive, he succeeded in composing one to his satisfaction. When it was finished and addressed, he turned to Florence.
“My dear, you must go out for me; you can take a cab. I want this note delivered—personally, remember—to Lieutenant Mason, at his chambers, in the Albany.”
“Papa!” exclaimed the astonished girl, looking from the letter he held toward her, to his agitated face.
“Yes, Florence—yes, it must be done. There are rumors afloat in the city that perplex and frighten me. Yes, I’ll be candid with you—they frighten me. And I must have his assurance that they are false before I can rest.”
“But, dear papa, would it not be better to have an interview with him yourself?”
Mr. Heriton struck his hands together.
“I cannot get it, child. I have been to his chambers two—three times, and the cringing, fawning, lying servant tells me always that he is out, although others are admitted. They are weary, I suppose, of the sight of the old man who haunts them so persistently. But I cannot rest, Florence—I cannot rest until I know that our money is safe.”
She tried to soothe him—to persuade him to regard this venture as a mistake that it were better to forget; for her own conviction of the uselessness of hoping had long been deeply rooted. But he would not listen, and his excitement increased.
“I’ll not believe that he has played me false. Mason’s a gentleman and a man of honor. It’s I who am to blame for doubting him. Only take this note to him; insist on seeing him, and explain and smooth away my folly in being so fearful. Remind him that I am old, and have been terribly tried and played upon by designing men. He will listen to you, Florry, my darling, and my mind will be at ease. Only go, dear, quickly!”
It was impossible to refuse this pitiful appeal, and, though much against her will, Florence went. She did not take a cab, for the simple reason that she had not sufficient silver in her purse to pay for it, but walked as briskly as she could, devising as she went the best way of addressing the lieutenant so as to draw from him the truth.