Mrs. Perage closed her ears and hurried to the door. "Not another word. You are only making me more and more curious. But I tell you what, Jim, I am going to stand Hench's friend in any case."
"You're a brick, Aunt Emma."
"I'm an old fool," snapped Mrs. Perage, who was more upset by the implied mystery than she chose to admit. "My wisest plan would be to wash my hands of the whole business, known and unknown. But instead of doing so I am just going to strengthen Gwen's love for Owain, so that it may not fail her when he makes his revelation."
Mrs. Perage held to this determination, and twice or thrice during the morning she exchanged words with Miss Evans on the subject of Hench. The girl for the time being had lost sight of her mission of clearing her name by discovering the name of the assassin, and was wholly taken up with love dreams. She was passionately devoted to the young man, as his attitude tended to increase her belief in the nobility of his nature. He had saved her life as it was, and now, in the face of the rumours which credited her with the death of her father, he was willing to marry her. No man but the noblest who ever breathed would act in so gloriously honourable a fashion. She said this and much more to Mrs. Perage in the seclusion of her bedroom, when she was putting on her prettiest frock and hat to keep the appointment. And all the time Mrs. Perage was rubbing her beaky nose irritably.
"Don't build the pedestal too high, Gwen," she advised dryly. "Your idol may have feet of clay and come toppling over."
"No," said the girl firmly. "Nothing will ever make me believe that Mr. Hench is not the best of men. What is his Christian name, Mrs. Perage? It is strange that he did not tell me yesterday."
Mrs. Perage was much too wary to give the name, lest it should lead to uncomfortable questions and forestall Owain's explanations. "How the deuce should I know the man's name?" she asked crossly and evasively. "I never met him until you introduced him to me as your hero."
"And he is a hero, isn't he?"
"Hum! I suppose so! The rescue was rather flamboyant--a kind of playing to the gallery."
"How unjust," cried Gwen, flaming up, which was exactly what Mrs. Perage wanted her to do. "As if he could help the way in which my rescue took place. I am quite sure that he is the most modest of men."