“Excuse my calling, ladies,” he said, “but I have come to make some inquiries about my daughter, May Churchill, who, I understand, has been living with you for some time.”
Both the poor ladies gave a gasp, and for a moment or two stood silent. They did not in truth know what to say; did not know how much Mr. Churchill knew, or how far May was committed in his eyes.
“My girl,” went on Mr. Churchill, seeing their hesitation, “disappeared from her home some time ago, and we have heard nothing of her till yesterday. But yesterday I had sure information that she is living with you, and that she is now called Mrs. John. Is this so?”
Miss Webster drew herself up a little proudly.
“Yes, Mr. Churchill,” she said, “your daughter has been here, but she is not here at present.”
“Where is she now, then?” asked Mr. Churchill, somewhat roughly. “For I mean to find her. I have come up to London to find her, and also to find Mr. John Temple, who, I suppose, has taken her away if she has gone from here.”
Again both the sisters gasped. This big strong man seemed to overwhelm them, and they felt themselves almost powerless in his hands.
“The long and the short of it is,” continued Mr. Churchill, “I mean to call Mr. John Temple to account for his conduct to May. He induced her, I believe, to leave her home, and she writes to him in a manner, I am told, that if she isn’t married to him she ought to be.”
Both the faded faces before him were now suffused with a sudden blush. But a moment later Miss Webster plucked up her courage.
“Sir,” she said, with not a little indignation in her tone, “I think you speak of your daughter, who is everything that a young lady should be, in a very unbecoming manner.”