“Yes,” she said; “you arranged it very well.”
“Ye—s! And the news at the office. Is he satisfied?”
“Yes, he is satisfied. He saw her name. It did not occur to him to ascertain if she had really sailed; if it had——” She paused, significantly.
The philanthropist laughed with unctuous enjoyment.
“But he didn’t, you see, my dear young lady. That is just the little risk one has to run; but, after all, it isn’t much risk. Why should he suspect that any one should go to the trouble and expense of booking a passage for Miss Marlowe? And you found him in bonds—just starting for prison?” And he rubbed his hands together with renewed enjoyment. “Poor Cecil! Really, it is very sad that one should be compelled to take such strong measures. And yet, after all, will not the lesson be a salutary one? Pride must have a fall, dear lady; pride must have a fall! And our dear Cecil”—his small eyes glinted maliciously for a moment—“was very, very proud! And you paid the money?”
She looked up with a little start.
“Yes, I paid the money. In fact, I have carried out your instructions to the letter.”
“Yes, yes; you are a courageous girl, dear lady. It is not every one so well known as you who would so far brave the consequences as to go to a gentleman’s rooms——”
She looked at him, with a flash in her eyes and with a tight compression of the lips, but he pretended not to notice the warning signs.
“Our dear Cecil ought to be very grateful to you; very! And, if I know his generous nature—and I fancy I do—I think he must be. Oh, yes, he will never forget it—never! Why, bless me, if it were known—if, for instance, any acquaintance had seen you going or departing—what would not be said?” And he held up his fat hands.