Chapter Five.
Consequences.
Everitt made his way home in happy unconsciousness of the discovery that followed his departure. To tell the truth, he troubled himself less than he might have done—for he was not without suspicions that Miss Aitcheson had penetrated his disguise further than he liked—because his thoughts were running persistently on one subject: how to see Miss Lascelles again, and quickly.
The most direct way was to get hold of Mrs Marchmont, and induce her to take him; but he had the grace to determine that, in telling her his wishes, he would tell her all, and be guided by her advice. If she were in favour of a frank confession, he was quite ready to undertake it. It must be owned that he did not imagine that in personating the disreputable Italian he had committed a very unpardonable fault; he did not, at any rate, so imagine it now, when it appeared to hint he had been far more inexcusable in suggesting that such a model as Giuseppe should sit for Kitty Lascelles.
He would go to Mrs Marchmont that afternoon.
So full was he of these thoughts that he neglected precautions, and very nearly blundered into the arms of the irrepressible Jack, who was diverting himself by strolling up and down the passage, and imparting a more truculent expression to the countenance of a grimy marble lion which stood on guard. He came into Everitt’s studio by-and-by with his curiosity very much alive.
“Hill swears no one has been here, but I can swear—harder—that twice to-day I’ve seen Giuseppe, or his double, and I believe he ran to earth in here.”
“I’ve not seen the fellow,” said Everitt, coolly.
“Well, you may take my word for it he’s been here. Do you mean to tell me I don’t know that old sun-burnt cloak of yours?”