'She isn't the kind of woman, you know, one can regard as a mother. But we are the best possible friends. She may, perhaps, think of me as a possible son-in-law. Poor thing; I hope she does. Perhaps it will help to put her mind at rest about the girls.'
'Then shall you often be down at Wrotham?' inquired the journalist, abstractedly.
'Oh, not often—that is to say, only once a month or so, just to look in. I wanted to ask you: do you think I might venture to begin a correspondence with Bella?'
'M—m—m! I can't say.'
'It would be so valuable, you know. I could suggest books for her reading; I could help her in her study of politics, and so on.'
'Well, think about it. But be cautious, I beg of you. Now I must be off. Only just time enough to get my traps to the station.'
'I'll come with you. Gare du Nord? Oh, plenty of time, plenty of time! Nothing so abominable as waiting for trains. I make a point of never getting to the station more than three minutes before time. Astonishing what one can do in three minutes! I want to tell you about an adventure I had in Boston. Met a fellow so devilish like Peak that I couldn't believe it wasn't he himself. I spoke to him, but he swore that he knew not the man. Never saw such a likeness!'
'Curious. It may have been Peak.'
'By all that's suspicious, I can't help thinking the same! He had an English accent, too.'
'Queer business, this of Peak's. I hope I may live to hear the end of the story.'