Have got all you want. The bird is netted.
Mowle.
He crushed it in his hand, and looked furtively round as if he almost suspected that the rest of the party knew its purport; then his face cleared, and he glanced at Olivia with an ugly smile of sinister significance.
“You snub me, do you, my lady?” he said, under his breath. “You’ll change your tone presently, I fancy.”
And he went into the open air mumbling the words of the telegram.
“Mowle’s a fool to send such a wire,” he said, wiping the perspiration from his forehead. “But he’s right. The bird is netted!”
CHAPTER X.
IN THE MOONLIGHT.
When they came out of the schoolroom into the open air, the moonlight was streaming over the pastoral scene, lighting up the crowd of people still talking of the wonderful “Dream of Eugene Aram,” as they made their way through the string of carriages.
Faradeane paused to say good-night; but Aunt Amelia would not offer her hand.
“My dear Mr. Faradeane!” she exclaimed, “surely you would not leave us! Bertie, the squire quite expects you back to smoke a cigar with him; do, do persuade him to come with you. Really, I feel that I cannot lose you, Mr. Faradeane.”