"I shall not," said Lesbia, quietly, "after all, bad as you are, I cannot forget that you are my father."
Even as the last word dropped from her mouth, the door opened and Mrs. Walker was ushered into the room. Behind her came Tim bearing high a lamp to light her way. The radiance revealed Lesbia white and shrinking and the defiant face of Walter Hale.
"The masther, howly saints!" muttered Tim, setting down the lamp; then he addressed Lesbia, quietly: "Will I bring more lights, Miss, av ye plase?"
"No thank you, Tim, this lamp will be enough. Shut the door."
Without a single glance at his master, Tim departed and left the trio together. Mrs. Walker, standing just within the room, had said nothing. Only when the door was closed did she speak. "I did not expect to find you here, Mr. Hale," she said with contempt and scarcely concealed surprise.
"And where should I be, save in my own house?" he asked, lightly.
"In gaol," she snapped, "and there you would be, had I my way."
Hale raised his eyebrows. "I do not understand," he remarked, coolly.
"Yes, you do, and you will understand completely when I tell you that Lady Charvington came to see me to-day." Hale uttered an exclamation of rage and vexation. "Yes, you may well swear, for she told both George and myself about the robbery at The Court. What do you say to that, you detected scoundrel?" she asked, sternly.
"Hush!" he muttered, gruffly, "my daughter is present."