CHAPTER XI
THE LONDON DETECTIVE
Sybil had seen Leo go into the room where her father was waiting with Mrs Jeal, and wondered what the woman had to do with her lover. She was called out to see a sick woman on behalf of her father, and on her way home bethought herself how she could see Leo. The girl was in a perfect fever of nervous fear for the young man. Then it struck her that the best thing to do would be to call at Mr Pratt's. No sooner had she made up her mind to brave her father's anger in this respect than she went at once to The Nun's House. She feared if she delayed that her courage might evaporate.
The door was opened by Adam, who explained that Mr Pratt was from home. "He went into Portfront to-day, miss," said Adam. "I only hope he will be able to get back this night, as there is a sea-fog coming up the Channel."
"There is no danger of his losing the road, Adam," said Sybil, cheerfully; "but I don't want to see Mr Pratt. It is Mr Haverleigh who—"
"He is in the library, miss," replied Adam, and admitted her into the house. When Sybil found herself alone with Leo she had a qualm. What would her father say should he ever come to know that she had paid such a visit?
Leo was seated at the desk, his face hidden in his arms, looking most dejected. He lifted his head as she entered, and, at the sight of his face, Sybil forgot all about her father and the impropriety of the visit. At once she ran to her lover, and drew his head down on to her breast with a look of almost divine pity. "My darling Leo," she said, "I knew that you were miserable, and I have come to comfort you."
"How good of you, dear!" replied Haverleigh, stroking her hair; "but your father? I did not think he would let you come to me."