He spoke it almost to himself, and the clergyman thought it kinder not to interrupt his thoughts during the few steps down the evil-smelling alley that led to the house, where Mrs. Hall was washing up her cup after breakfast. It was Mr. Deyncourt who spoke, seeing that the swelling hope and doubt were almost too much for his companion.
‘Good morning, Mrs. Hall; we have come to you early, but Lord Northmoor is very anxious to know whether you can throw any light on what has become of his little boy.’
Mrs. Hall was in a very different state of mind from when she had denied all knowledge to Herbert, a mere boy, whom she did not like, and when she was anxious to shelter her daughter, whose silence had by this time begun to offend her. The sight of the clergyman and the other gentleman alarmed her, and she began by maundering out—
‘I am sure, sir, I don’t know nothing. My daughter have never writ one line to me.’
‘He was with her!’ gasped out Lord Northmoor.
‘I am sure, sir, it was none of my doing, no, nor my daughter wouldn’t neither, only the young lady over persuaded her. ’Tis she as was the guilty party, as I’ll always say.’
‘She—who?’
‘Miss Morton—Miss Hida, sir; and my gal wouldn’t never have done it, sir, but for the stories
she told, fictious stories they was, I’m sure, that the child wasn’t none of my lady’s, only a brat picked up in foreign parts to put her brother out of his chance.’
‘What are you saying?’ exclaimed Lord Northmoor. ‘My niece never could have said any such thing.’