“May I walk home too with you, Deb? I won’t talk about anything to—to worry you.”
“Of course,” answered she, with a gentle and grateful smile.
But when the service was over and the congregation poured out of the church, Deborah was seized and surrounded by the Llancader ladies, who had come to Monmouthshire to pass Christmas. Only Lady Marion was absent. Deborah inquired after her of Lady Kate.
“Oh, don’t you know. Of course, it’s a secret, but still it’s one that everyone seems to know—except papa and mamma,” babbled out Lady Kate, in a confidential tone. “Marion is so dreadfully, idiotically fond of that Rees of yours that she has gone to stay with Aunt Lucilla, in Eaton Square, so that she may stay in the same town with him. She is making a perfect fool of herself about him. I must say so, Mr. Pennant, though I know he is your brother.”
“Oh, I’m not at all offended, Lady Kate. You can’t expect two geniuses in one family. But I think its a pity Lord St. Austell isn’t told of their pranks.”
“Nobody dares tell papa anything since last Friday,” answered Kate in a lower voice.
“He was knocked down and robbed as he was walking at night with one of his friends. He had been out to dinner, and it was so foggy that he dared not drive home. And—of course we are not supposed to talk about it—but he believes he recognised one of the men who attacked him.”
“Who was it?” asked Godwin, interested.
“Why—you won’t say anything about it, will you?—but he thinks the man who knocked him down was the man who used to be librarian here—Amos Goodhare!”
“By Jove!” cried Godwin. “You don’t mean it?”