“The messenger lost not the quittance,” said Hans. “It is quite safe.”
He had been out of the room for a minute while Temperance was away, and now, passing his hand into his pocket, he took out a slip of paper, which he laid in the hand of Lady Louvaine.
She drew forth her gold spectacles, and was fitting them on, when Edith impulsively sprang up, and read the paper over her mother’s shoulder.
“Received of Mr Aubrey Louvaine, gent, the sum of twenty pounds, for moneys heretofore lent by me, this fifteenth of January, the year of our Lord God 1605, according to the computation of the Church of England.
“Thomas Rookwood.”
“Northumberland, Cumberland, Westmoreland, and Durham!” was the comment from Temperance.
“Hans!” said Edith, a light flashing on her, “wert thou the messenger?”
“I was not sent,” was the placid answer.
“Hans, thou admirable rascal!” cried Temperance, laying her hands on his shoulders, “I do believe thou didst pay this money. If thou own not the truth, I’ll shake thee in twenty bits.”
Hans looked up laughingly into her face.