Her daughter laughed in the way that a daughter laughs at a prophetic mother clad in sables, with a suspicion of black velvet and beads underneath.
CHAPTER LI.—ON THE WAYS OF PROVIDENCE AND OTHERS.
DURING the next few days Harold had numerous visitors. A man cannot have his father murdered without attracting a considerable amount of attention to himself. Cards “With deepest sympathy” were left upon him by the hundred, and the majority of those sympathizers drove away to say to their friends at their clubs what a benefactor to society was the person who had run that knife into the ribs of Lord Fotheringay. Some suggested that a presentation should be got up for that man; and when someone asked what the police meant by taking so much trouble to find the man, another ventured to formulate the very plausible theory that they were doing so in order to force him to give sittings to an eminent sculptor for a statue of himself with the knife in his hand, to be erected by public subscription outside the House of Lords.
“Yes; pour encourager les autres!” said one of the sympathizers.
Another of the sympathizers inquired where were the Atheists now?
It was generally admitted that, as an incentive to orthodoxy, the tragic end of Lord Fotheringay could scarcely be over-estimated.
It threw a flood of light upon the Ways of Providence.
The Scotland Yard people at first regarded the incident from such a standpoint.