"I'd like to read that newspaper report for myself," said the author, after a pause. "Could you not let me see it?"
Jenny shook her head. "I'm afraid not," she replied guiltily. "You see Kerry found me with the papers one day and took them away. He was very angry, and said I had no business to look at them."
"My stars!" cried Linton, in a startled tone; "what will he say when he finds out that you and I have made use of them?"
"He won't find out," replied Jenny, jumping down off the wall. "Kerry never reads novels, and no one will tell him. Oh, it's quite safe, Frank, quite safe."
"I'm not so sure of that, Jenny. My father will talk about my book to Mr. Paynton, and he'll tell Kerry."
"Well, what if he does," cried Jenny, skipping down the steps. "I'm sure I don't care if Kerry does know. Who cares for a musty, fusty old crime of five-and-twenty years ago? Don't trouble about it, Frank. I'll take the blame."
Linton walked on in silence beside her, and they entered the market place on their way to the vicarage, He was beginning to have some qualms about the matter. Kerry had a very bad temper, and Linton was by no means anxious to encounter him.
"I wish we had left it alone," he said gloomily, pausing by the cross in the square.
"Nonsense! Don't be a moral coward," said Jenny pettishly. "I'll take the blame on myself. Kerry can't kill me be——"
At this point she was interrupted by a dog-cart containing two young men, which spun past rapidly. The driver took off his hat to Miss Paynton with a smile.