Then she recognised me. Except for the fact that her face suddenly flamed and then as suddenly hardened, her breeding stood her in good stead, and with cold, clear eyes, which looked as indifferently into mine as if I had been a stranger calling to solicit a subscription to some charity, she pointed me to a chair.
"You bring me news of my father?" she inquired, with a composure which was possibly assumed for my benefit, or, rather, for my discomfiture.
"That is why I am here," I answered, bowing gravely, and in my turn assuming an indifference which I strove to make as studied as her own.
"He is safe and well," I went on. "Of that let me assure you positively. He is detained only upon a matter of business, and but for the fact that other people, as well as himself, are concerned in it, he could return, if he chose, this very night."
This much I said to allay her anxiety. That it was a diplomatic rather than an exact statement of the facts, I do not deny, but though I would unhesitatingly have told a lie to spare her, I was at least within the truth in saying that the moment of Mr. Carleton's return lay entirely within his own choice, since, once he had consented to pay the ransom demanded by the Dumpling—and the money, as well as the safety of his kidnappers, was secured—Mr. Carleton would in all probability be set at liberty, and could then return, as I had said. Into the question whether he would or would not consent thus to be bled of a large sum of money, I had no intention of entering. The business before me was to break the bad news as gently and as gradually as possible; and in breaking bad news it does not always do to blurt out the undiluted truth.
"Thank you," she said stiffly. "I wonder, in that case, that my father did not communicate with me himself. Am I to understand that you are his messenger? And am I to content myself with the bare knowledge, and only on your assurance, that my father is detained on business, and may or may not return to-night?"
"That's as you choose, Miss Carleton," I made answer, somewhat foolishly.
"You have the advantage of me, sir," she replied icily, "for, to the best of my belief, you and I have never met before. Is that not so?"
It is a woman's prerogative to forget or to remember, as her instinct or her inclinations dictates, and, in view of the somewhat unusual and unconventional circumstances of our first meeting, I was by no means sure that I did not like and admire her the more, rather than the less, for the way in which she had met the situation. Unhesitatingly I fathered the lie, and with similar hardihood.
"That is so," I replied coldly.