Clarence’s message was short and to the point; it contained but five words: “Are you there? Something important.”
The return message was equally concise. “Funeral day after to-morrow. Write me.”
“Quite a coincidence,” said Jennie. “Mr. De Vinne’s brother is to be buried on the day we have fixed for our departure. I do not think it is best for him to meet Bertha while she is with us. She had to know our secret, but it is not necessary that any more should be acquainted with it just at present. You write to him to-day that we are going, and he will probably lose no time in taking the most direct course by way of Dover and Calais.”
“Yes,” said Clarence, “but how are you going?”
“We shall leave London day after to-morrow by a very early train. I’ve got it all figured out. Bertha is coming to the city to-morrow. Of course your father will fume and fret and wonder why you two do not return home, but knowing that she is with you will relieve his anxiety to a great extent.”
“If he thought I had eloped with her, he would be perfectly satisfied,” said Clarence.
“No doubt, but will he be so well satisfied when he learns that she has eloped with your wife? But you must not tell him. Give me your solemn promise that you will not. To-morrow night I will tell you the route which I have laid out for our flight.”
Clarence’s conversation with his wife had taken place in the afternoon and he returned to Buckholme that evening. He was more attentive than ever to Bertha. The senior Mr. Glynne sought the seclusion of his library. With his hands clasped behind him, he walked briskly up and down the long apartment, smiling to himself and repeating in an undertone: “That boy of mine is no fool after all; he knows on which side his bread is buttered.”
The next morning Clarence said: “Governor, things are moving along faster than I expected. I have not proposed yet. I think it is best not to hurry the matter; but I would like to have Bertha go to London with me, as I saw a beautiful locket in a jeweller’s window in Regent Street. I am going to take her to look at it and if she is delighted with it, as I know she will be, I am going to buy it for her. You know there is nothing pleases a woman as much as——” He came near saying “having her own way,” but he bethought himself in time and finished with, “having a nice present from a young man.”
The senior Mr. Glynne rubbed his hands together gleefully, and patted his son approvingly on the shoulder. His next move was to take out his pocket-book, from which he extracted a ten-pound note which he passed to Clarence, saying: “Get something pretty nice.”