“I believe you have come to see the china,” continued Harriet, “I do not know much about it myself, but Miss Wynward will be here in a minute, and she knows the name of every piece, and where it came from!”
“That will be eminently satisfactory,” rejoined Anthony Pennell, “but I happen to be a connoisseur in such things myself. I have one or two charming bits of old Sèvres and Majolica in my chambers, which I think the Baroness would like to see if she will honour me with a visit to my little place. A lonely bachelor like myself must take up some hobby, you know, to fill his life, and mine happens to be china. Madame Gobelli appears to have some lovely Chelsea there. I would like to steal one or two of those groups on the cabinet. Will you hold the door open for me, whilst I run away with them?”
At this sally, Harriet laughed, and Mr. Pennell thought she looked even handsomer when she laughed than when she was pensive.
“Here is the tea!” she cried nervously, as Miss Wynward appeared with the tray. “O! Miss Wynward, surely Madame cannot be much longer now! Have you looked down the road to see if she is coming?”
“The carriage has just turned into the stable yard,” replied Miss Wynward, and in another minute, the doorway was filled with the ample proportions of the Baroness.
“’Olloa! Mr. Pennell, and so you’ve stolen a march upon me!” was her first greeting, “’ow are you?” extending her enormous hand, “’ave you been looking at the china? Wait till I’ve ’ad my tea; I’ll show you one or two bits that’ll make your mouth water! It’s my ’obby! I used to save my pocket money when I was a little gal to buy china. I remember my grandfather, the Dook of—but there, I ’aven’t known you long enough to let you into family secrets. Let’s ’ave our tea and talk afterwards! I ’ope ’Arriet ’as entertained you well!”
“This young lady—” commenced Anthony Pennell, interrogatively.
“To be sure, Miss ’Arriet Brandt! ’Asn’t she introduced ’erself to you? She’s like a daughter of the ’ouse to us! We look upon ’er as one of our own, Gustave and me! Miss Brandt from Jamaica! And she knew your cousin, Captain Pullen, too, at Heyst, we all did, and we’re dying to ’ear what ’as become of ’im, for ’e’s never shown ’is face at the Red ’Ouse!”
The murder was out now, and Harriet waited tremblingly for the result! What did Mr. Pennell know? What would he say?
But Mr. Pennell said nothing—he was too much startled to speak. This, Harriet Brandt—this lovely girl, the quadroon of whom both Doctor Phillips and Mrs. Pullen had spoken so disparagingly?—of whom they had said that she was not fit to be the wife of any decent man? Oh! they must be fools and blind—or he was dreaming! The Baroness was not slow to see the look upon his face and to interpret it rightly.