How could he? He did not know the man; not a line had ever been exchanged between them. Their relations were so very peculiar. It would seem sheer impertinence on his part to interfere with the management of Lord Scoutbush's property. Really there was a great deal to be said, Tom felt, for poor Elsley's dislike of meddling in that quarter.
"Would Mrs. Vavasour write, then?"
"For Heaven's sake do not mention it to her. She would be so terrified about the children; she is worn out with anxiety already,"—and so forth.
Tom went back to Frank Headley.
"You see a good deal of Miss St. Just."
"I?—No—why?—what?" said poor Frank, blushing.
"Only that you must make her write to her brother about this cholera."
"My dear fellow, it is such a subject for a lady to meddle with."
"It has no scruple in meddling with ladies; so ladies ought to have none in meddling with it. You must do it as delicately as you will: but done it must be: it is our only chance. Tell her of Tardrew's obstinacy, or Scoutbush will go by his opinion; and tell her to keep the secret from her sister."
Frank did it, and well. Valencia was horror-struck, and wrote.