‘Have you never paid Whitbury a visit all these past thirty years, Mr. Belassis?’ she asked sweetly. ‘Surely you cannot have forgotten us so utterly as that? You were so enthusiastic about the place when you were there. Have you never been there since?’
‘No—in fact—you see, I had very much to occupy my time;’ and he looked at Miss Marjory with a sort of helpless entreaty, which she was hard-hearted enough to enjoy.
‘You left so suddenly, too, without even making your adieux! There was quite an excitement about your sudden flight and expected return. Nobody dreamed you had gone for good.’
‘There was no particular—reason—why I should return,’ hesitated Belassis, trying to put a bold face upon the matter.’
‘Indeed!’ returned Miss Marjory significantly; ‘I should have thought there was an excellent reason.’
Belassis was silent, and his plate stood before him untouched. What would not that dreadful woman say next? He was ready to wish that the earth would open and swallow him up! The earth, however, as is usual in such cases, showed no disposition to espouse him or his cause.
People had a way of listening when Miss Marjory spoke, and her last observation had been heard by one or two, who seemed idly waiting for what would follow. Miss Marjory was quite equal to the occasion.
‘I fancied, perhaps, you had relatives there,’ she went on carelessly. ‘There is a Belassis living in the town, but it may be another family, of course. He is in trade, and doing a good business.’
Mr. Belassis had turned so yellow that even Miss Marjory thought she had gone far enough. Most likely he knew at once to what family that other Belassis belonged, and it was not to be wondered at if the news gave him a new pang of terror.
‘Must be another family,’ he muttered hoarsely. ‘I’ve no—no—no relations in Yorkshire.’