A softer look came over the young man’s face. After a pause of some minutes’ duration, he said:
“I will consider what you have said, Mr. Bradfield. In the meantime, I will not intrude upon you any longer. But I should like, before I go, to see Miss Abercarne for a few minutes if,” he added in a gentle tone, “she will see me.”
“Unluckily,” said John, “she’s still in London, where she has been staying with some friends of her mother’s for the last three months. But if you’ll give me your address, I will get Mrs. Abercarne’s permission to send you her daughter’s.”
The young man moved at once towards the door.
“Thank you,” said he. “I will send you my address then. And I will let you hear from me again.”
“You won’t stay—to dinner?” asked Mr. Bradfield, feeling tolerably secure of his answer.
“No, thank you. There is a train back to town in about an hour. Good afternoon.”
And he left the room without another word.
Mr. Bradfield followed him out, and saw him go through the iron gate at the end of the drive, then he went back into the study, and passed his hand with a gesture of relief across his forehead.
“Saved!” muttered he. “Safe for a few hours. What must be the next move?”