"In the church, half an hour ago."
"Did he question you?"
"He did."
"And you replied?"
"I answered his questions," said Jenny quietly, "if you refer to the Larcher affair."
"I do refer to it," groaned her father, sinking back into his chair. "Unhappy girl! you know not what trouble you have caused."
Hilliston said nothing, but stood moodily considering what was best to be done. He saw that Tait had been too clever for him, and had anticipated his arrival. Yet he had come as speedily as possible; not a moment had he lost since his arrival in Eastbourne to seek out Jenny and ask her to be silent. But it was too late; he had missed his opportunity by a few minutes, and it only remained for him to learn how much the girl had told his enemy. No wonder he hated Tait; the fellow was too dangerous a foeman to be despised.
"We may yet mend matters," he said judiciously, "if Miss Jenny will repeat so much of the conversation as she remembers."
"Why should I repeat it?" said Jenny, objecting to this interference, as Tait guessed she would. "There was nothing wrong in the conversation with Mr. Tait that I know of."
"There was nothing wrong in your telling Linton the story you found in The Canterbury Observer," replied Hilliston dryly; "yet it would have been as well had you not done so."