“But you will find it soon!” Wiggie answered with a quick look, and saw where the other’s eyes turned. “I have found mine,” he added. He stood up as Harriet came back. “Harriet—when may I come home again?”
“Home?” Harriet stared.
“Home to Wild Duck—for good!”
They gazed at each other over the plate of scones, and then, still clasping it, the Rur’l D’trict C’cillor fled from the room. The Great Quetta (who was only Wiggie) followed.
“Seen Brack lately?” Hamer inquired in a low tone, dropping into the vacant chair. Lanty nodded.
“Yes, I’ve come across him a good deal. He often looks in to see me, too. But he’s leaving—did you know?—giving up Thweng in the spring, and going out to Canada again, to join Lup. They say he wants to take Braithwaite’s youngest girl with him. He’s money, you know, so he can afford to play about between the Continents. I’ll be sorry to lose him—yes, it’s come to that, though I’d never have believed it! There’s nothing he won’t do for me, nowadays. Oh, he’s the old Brack again, of course!—all the stage-effects piled on as thick as ever—but the old Brack with a difference. He still goes to church, by the way.”
“New life for everybody,” Hamer mused. “There’s not much doubt where Cyril will end, is there? You’ll be putting out your hand, too, my boy!”
Lanty looked at him with a question in his eyes.
“Put it out soon!” said Hamer.
Bluecaster left, shortly afterwards, and the agent walked part of the way with him.