"Do you believe that he is guilty?" asked Durban hoarsely.
"No. I don't care what Waterloo says."
"What did he say?"
Beatrice related the whole accusation with the evidence, as detailed by Waterloo. Durban listened attentively, and wiped his face. "Guilty or innocent," he said in a strangled voice, "that evidence is sufficient to hang Mr. Paslow. I am guilty, missy."
"I don't believe it," retorted Beatrice. "Everything connected with these matters has been sordid and evil; but that you, who have always been so kind, should kill even so wicked a man as Mr. Alpenny, is ridiculous. Nothing will ever make me believe in your guilt. But here we are," she broke off abruptly; "say nothing more until we have seen my mother. We will get the necklace, and close the Major's mouth. I will question Vivian and hear what he has to say."
"No, no, missy!"
"Yes, yes!" retorted Beatrice imperiously. "I will not let you, my oldest friend--my almost father--accuse yourself of a vile crime, when I know that you would not hurt a fly."
Durban would have answered, but that they had to alight. The cab was dismissed, and Durban rang the bell. As Lady Watson proved to be at home, they were shown up into the drawing-room. The mistress of the house might have refused herself to Durban, whom she hated, but the footman said that he had been given orders to admit Miss Hedge whenever she called. This showed Beatrice two things. Firstly, that her mother really wanted to see her as often as possible, and might have some small affection left; and secondly, that she did not intend to acknowledge her as her daughter, seeing that she had given the servant the name of Miss Hedge instead of Miss Hall.
Lady Watson expressed surprise at seeing Durban, and joy at beholding Beatrice. "You dear girl!" she said, embracing her; "you did make me so miserable this afternoon. I am just going out to dinner, and can only give you ten minutes.--I am surprised to see you, Durban."
"And not very pleased, Mrs. Hall."