‘Oh, doubtless, but about the gentleman who called to see her, what was his name?’
‘He didn’t leave no name, sir, but said he would call again.’
‘What was he like? Short and stout and middle-aged, with rather a red complexion, eh?’
He concluded at once that it must have been Mr Crampton, who had followed his daughter on the receipt of her letter that morning.
‘Well, not very red in the face, sir, but stoutish certainly, and not over tall.’
‘I know him,’ replied Frederick, thinking he did. ‘If he comes again during my absence, ask him to walk upstairs and wait until we return.’
‘All right, sir.’
Of course it was Mr Crampton, he thought. It could be no one else, and he must be by Jenny’s side when their encounter took place. If old Crampton thought that, by right of his paternity, he would bully Jenny, he was very much mistaken. He would have to answer to her husband first. He went back to the beach, thinking he should find her amongst all the nursemaids, children, serenaders and fruit-sellers, and was prepared to meet her with a little scolding for exposing herself to the heat of the day and the vulgarities of the Dover sands. But she was not there. The beach was almost deserted now, for the babies and their attendants had gone back to their lodgings to early dinner, and the serenaders were performing in front of the ‘pubs,’ in hopes of earning a meal. There would have been no difficulty in discerning Jenny’s distinguished little figure on the long line of sand and shingle, but it was evident she was not there. Where could the minx have hidden herself? Frederick was a little inclined to feel cross, although it was the first day of their married life, because Jenny had so decidedly said she would rather not go out that morning, and, if she had not done so, he should not have left her to herself. Could she have ventured into the town? She had come away so hurriedly, that she might have found herself in want of some trifling article that she had forgotten and gone to the shops to procure it. He turned his steps, therefore, in that direction, but saw her nowhere in the streets. He even asked one or two pedestrians if they had met a young lady in a broad-brimmed hat trimmed with poppies and grasses, but they all shook their heads. Frederick wandered about the streets for some time, and then resolved to go back to the hotel. After all, Jenny was not a baby. She had been well used to look after herself, and had a watch to tell her the proper time to return. It was more than likely she was already at the Castle Warden. His first inquiry on re-entering was naturally for her.
‘No, sir, the lady ain’t been in yet,’ was the disappointing reply, ‘but the gentleman as I spoke of, he came again and left his card.’
‘Where is it?’ said Frederick, eagerly, and was handed the one which Henry Hindes had left behind him.