"Felicia dear," I said, "I do not wish to be the enemy of any one who is your friend. Indeed, your uncle and his doings mean so little to me. If they are honest, I might be able to help him. If he is engaged in transactions of which he is ashamed, then it is time that you were taken away."
"I will never believe that," she declared.
"Felicia," I said, "I will tell you why I have broken my promise and come to London. I believe I told you that I had a brother out in Brazil?"
"Yes!" she answered,—"Dicky, you called him."
"He wrote, you know, and said that he had been staying with the Deloras on their estate, and he begged that I should call upon your uncle here. Now I have had a cable from him. Felicia, there is something wrong. You shall read the cable for yourself."
I gave it to her. She read it word by word. Then she read it again, aloud, very softly to herself, and finally gave it back to me.
"I do not understand," she whispered. "I do not know why my uncle has not communicated with his brother."
"I am beginning to believe, Felicia," I said, "that I know more than you. I tell you frankly I believe that your uncle has kept silence because he is not honestly carrying out the business on which he was sent to England. Tell me exactly, will you? When did he arrive from America?"
She shook her head.
"Austen," she said, "you know there were some things which I promised to keep silent about, and this is one."