“It doesn’t matter,” replied Marie, getting on her feet; “we shall marry all the same. But the first thing to be done is to save Uncle Ran, and I am doing what I can—that is, I intend to do what I can. Alan will work also, and Mr. Latimer, though he doesn’t seem to think Uncle Ran is innocent.’
“On the face of it it looks as though he were not,” said the vicar doubtfully, and rising in his turn, “however we can talk over the matter in the drawing-room.”
“No,” said Marie standing very erect, and looking at the elderly pair with very bright eyes. “I am now going home to think out things.”
“Oh, Marie, won’t you stay here?”
“I think it is best to go home,” repeated the girl gently, but kissing the soft and withered old cheek. “I am all right with granny and Henny and Jenny to look after me. If Mr. Bakche comes I shan’t be afraid.”
“My dear girl, you may suspect him wrongly,” said Mr. Fuller.
“Well, other people are suspecting Uncle Ran wrongly,” retorted Miss Inderwick, “so that balances things. Now I must go away. Good-night Mr. Fuller; good-night, Mrs. Fuller. If I learn anything I shall come and tell you.”
“I shall write at once to Alan and ask him to explain things precisely,” said the vicar, as he saw his guest at the door; “and keep up your heart my dear child. This trouble, like all troubles, is a blessing in disguise.”
“It is a very good disguise, then” said Marie sadly, “no, don’t come with me,” she added when Mr. Fuller assumed his soft hat and took his stick. “I can get home by myself.”
“No,” said the clergyman grimly, and took her arm, “after you have hinted about that Indian, I think it is just as well to see you safely into the hands of your servants.”