“You don’t impose upon me in the least by all this tragedy acting,” said Sir Matthew. “I am satisfied that you know quite well where she is. Probably she is in this house.”
Ralph seemed on the point of springing at his torturer’s throat, when Macneillie laid a strong hand on his shoulder and drew him back.
“My dear boy, leave this to me” he said. “Surely Sir Matthew, you cannot seriously believe that we know anything of Miss Ewart’s movements? From the little I know of her I should imagine she was far too right-minded and sensible to dream of attempting to seek refuge with her lover. I saw her once or twice in August when she was staying with Mrs. Hereford at Southbourne, and was struck by her quiet common-sense.”
Sir Matthew was obliged to alter his tone, for he saw at once that there was force in what Macneillie said.
“She told me she had met you at Southbourne. I suppose it was there, Ralph, that you had the presumption to ask her to marry you?”
Ralph had by this time recovered his self-control, he replied with a sort of quiet dignity which Sir Matthew resented much more than the outburst of anger.
“It was there that I told her I hoped some day to work my way up in the profession. It was there I learnt that our love was mutual. Surely she will have gone to Mrs. Hereford for protection. That would be her most natural impulse.”
“Well, I had not thought of that. Are the Herefords in London?” said Sir Matthew, feeling that there was a good deal of sense in the suggestion.
“No, they will not be back till Parliament meets, but I know their address in County Wicklow, and will telegraph to them to-morrow.”
Sir Matthew frowned: it galled him terribly to feel that he was helpless.