“To look for me?” she said, her eyes opening on Mr. Pinchook, so that the old gentleman felt almost uncomfortable under their uncompromising gaze.
“Yes,” said Varley, languidly. “What I have warned you of so often has happened at last. I knew it would. Mr. Pinchook has come to claim you.”
“Won’t you take a chair, Miss Chetwynde?” said Mr. Pinchook; and he offered her his, transferring himself to a box.
Esmeralda took no notice of the chair, but still kept her eyes upon him. Varley Howard leaned against the side of the hut, and blew the smoke from his lips into the delicate rings which had been Esmeralda’s delight in her childhood, and were her delight still.
“Mr. Pinchook has come to tell us all about you,” he said. “To put it shortly, Ralda, he is your grandfather’s lawyer.”
“My grandfather’s?” repeated Esmeralda.
Varley Howard nodded.
“His name was Chetwynde, so was your father’s. Both your grandfather and your father are dead, and your mother, as you know, is dead too.” He glanced at the photograph.
Esmeralda took it up, looked at it intently, then laid it down again.
“Then I belong to you altogether, Varley?” she said.