I knew that I had reached a crisis in my life, and though it had brought with it a great fear, it had also brought a great joy, for it seemed as though the days of my loneliness were over.
Could I doubt it when I looked into Lady Langerdale’s face and felt my uncle’s warm hand-clasp? There was a sweetness about such a thought hard for another to realise, and for a moment I gave myself up to it. Whilst Lord Langerdale briefly told his wife the few particulars which I had been able to give him of my mother and myself, I stood between the two, keenly conscious of and enjoying the change which seemed hovering over my life.
But afterwards I remembered the ordeal which I had yet to face and the mission which had brought me to London, and they saw the gladness die slowly out of my face.
Lord Langerdale questioned me concerning it, and then I told them everything—told them of our suspicions in connection with Mr. Marx and of my determination to find him out, and discover whether he had been guilty of foul play towards the man Hart.
When I came to my last night’s adventure with Count de Cartienne, Lord Langerdale looked very grave.
“It seems to me,” he declared, “that this is more a matter for the police than for you to mix yourself up in.”
I shook my head. Of one thing I did feel confident, although, as regards the whole of the rest of the affair, I was in a complete maze.
However anxious Mr. Ravenor might be for the truth concerning the missing man to be discovered, he had strong reasons for not wishing the police to take part in the search. I felt sure of that, and was determined to act accordingly.
Lord Langerdale was not easily reassured.
“I don’t like the idea of your having anything whatever to do with de Cartienne in all the circumstances,” he said, with a shudder. “He can have but one feeling for you, and a more dangerous man does not breathe. It is an evil chance that has brought you together.”