Betsy, who saw that she had made an impression, proceeded to deepen it. She was enjoying very much her own cleverness, and the sense of importance that her position gave to her.
‘I fastened up the letter pretty quick again, and put it in the box; but I couldn’t get the thing out of my head. In the evening I took a walk in the park, as I often do, and there’s one of the gardeners as has sometimes come and had a talk with me. He’s a nice respectable young man, and I don’t mind having a little chat with him now and again. Well, ma’am, that evening, as I was waiting about amongst the trees, watching the shadows get longer and darker, I thought I saw the young man a-coming, and I went to meet him; but when I got close up, why, I saw it was somebody all muffled up with a great silk handkerchief, and he seemed sneaking up towards the house, as if he didn’t want to be seen. I was behind him, and I came so soft that he didn’t hear me, and passed by; but I knew quite well who he was. It was the gentleman who had been with master in the afternoon, and it’s my opinion he hung for hours about the house before he went; and I’m almost sure I saw him in the shrubbery last night, too!’
A little cross-examination convinced Mrs. Belassis that Betsy was speaking the truth, and she left the girl in a very contemplative frame of mind, after bidding her keep a sharp look-out, and notice particularly how often the stranger visited Ladywell, and how many private interviews he held with Mr. Debenham.
‘There is something odd about this,’ said Mrs. Belassis to herself. ‘That foreigner knows something which Philip wishes hushed up. That is evident, I think. The point is, what on earth can Miss Marjory Descartes have to do with it? If she visits Ladywell, perhaps I can find that out for myself; meantime I must leave that question. But I will see this foreigner. I will call on Michael Meredith and inquire after him, as he has been so ill. I do not frequently visit the house; but I do not see, under the present circumstances, that my doing so can attract any suspicion.’
Mrs. Belassis walked on thoughtfully for awhile, and then added, with an air of determination:
‘Yes, I will go now, morning though it be. All times are alike to the blind. Perhaps a little dexterous flattery will induce Meredith to ask me to luncheon, and then I shall see this strange guest. I much want some conversation with him. I wish I could speak Italian; however, no doubt French will suit my purpose just as well.’
When Mrs. Belassis had planned a certain course of action, it was not often that she failed to carry it through.
The Merediths and the Belassis’ were not on intimate terms, but there had never been any coldness between them. Michael Meredith did not trouble himself with matters which did not concern him; and Maud’s complaints about her uncle and aunt never made any impression upon him, neither did he pay any heed to the hints he heard dropped from time to time as to the honesty of the ex-lawyer. His own finances were not in the hands of Belassis. He had never heard that his old friend Debenham had doubted his brother-in-law’s integrity; and so he had no grudge against Belassis, and always received his wife or daughters with his customary gentle empressement.
Mrs. Belassis could be very suave and gentle when it suited her purpose; and her concern over the blind man’s illness, her anxiety to learn its every detail, and the interest she evinced in the whole subject, quite won Meredith’s heart; for if there was one thing he loved to discuss more than another, it was himself and his sensations, and a new and interested listener was an immense acquisition.
Mrs. Belassis skilfully led him on to speak more and more, until the luncheon-bell broke in upon the interview, and with an apology for her lengthy visit she rose to depart.