“Ah, Henri, my child,” she said; “how pale and careworn you look! Where are they all?”
“Van Heldre’s,” said Harry shortly.
“Ah, poor man! Very bad, I hear. Yes, it’s very sad, but I do not see why his accident should so reverse our regular lives at home. Henri, dear, you must break with Mr Van Heldre after this.”
“I have broken with him, aunt,” cried the young man fiercely.
“Ah! that’s right; that is spoken as one of our race should speak. Good boy. And, Henri, my darling, of course there will be no more silly flirtings with your sister’s friend. Remember what I have told you of the fair daughters of France, and let the fraulein marry that man Leslie.”
“Aunt, you’ll drive me mad,” exclaimed Harry, grinding his teeth; and without another word he dashed out of the house. His first thought was to go up the cliff-path on to the wild granite plain and moors which overlooked the town, but he could not stir in that direction. There was the haunting dread of that locket being found, and he went on down again into the town, and looked about the shore for hours.
The afternoon was growing old, and his mind was becoming better able to bear the brunt of all that was to come.
He raised his eyes, and was on the point of going back home to see if his father and sister had returned, when he caught sight of old Crampton coming out of the post-office, after which the old man walked on in the direction of his home.
The opportunity at last! The office would be unguarded; and, walking swiftly in the direction of Van Heldre’s, he turned round into the back lane, and, strung up to act firmly and determinedly, he pressed the back gate.
It was fast.