“Then—then,” stammered she when, blushing a rosy red, she looked up after this caress, “at present the child is in the singular position of having no mother, but three fathers?”
“That’s it exactly,” laughed Repton.
“And the worst of it is,” said Bayre, “that it’s one of those cases in which three men are not equal to one woman.”
The lady looked down at the child and hesitated.
“I suppose,” she said, “that it won’t be very long before you find out who the child belongs to?”
“Oh, no,” said Bayre, promptly. “We’re going to set about making inquiries at once. I’m writing to-night.”
“Who to?” cried Repton and Southerley in a breath, sinking grammar in their excitement.
But Bayre was dignified and reticent.
“Leave it to me,” said he. “It’s a matter where discretion is necessary.”
Southerley and Repton exchanged looks of suspicion and scorn. This fellow was trifling with the truth; for they were artful enough to know that the person to whom this discreet creature would apply was the last person who could help him in such a matter—the pretty girl from Creux.