“Claud, you amaze me, my boy,” cried Wilton, who looked staggered, but his incredulity got the better of him directly. “No; only by your effrontery,” he continued. “You are trifling with me; worse still, you are trifling with a large fortune. Come, it will pay you best to be frank. Where is she?”
“At the bottom of the pike pond, for all I know—a termagant,” cried Claud; “I tell you I haven’t seen her since the row.”
“Then she is drowned—she’s drowned.”
“Be quiet, Maria!” roared Wilton. “Now, boy, tell me the truth for once in a way; did you elope with Kate?”
“No, guv’nor, I did not,” cried the young man. “I never had the chance, or I’d have done it like a shot.”
Wilton’s jaw dropped. He was quite convinced now, and he sank into a chair, staring at his son.
“I—I thought you had made short work of it,” said Wilton, huskily.
“Then she really has gone?” said Claud in a whisper.
“Yes, yes, my dear,” burst out Mrs Wilton. “I knew it! I was right at first.”
“Where has she gone, then, mother?”