“What are you going to do?” cried Claire, in alarm.
“Ring for Jo-si-ah, and to send our Joseph to book three seats for the coach.”
“But Mr Barclay? Must you tell him—now?” faltered Claire.
“Why, of course, my dear, or we may be too late. Do you know that some one else is evidently making plans?”
“What do you mean?” cried Claire excitedly.
“We know a great deal here, my dear. My husband has to keep an eye upon the slippery people who borrow money of him; and there was a hint brought here to-day that a certain gentleman was going to elope to-night with a certain lady, and the idea was that you were the lady. We know it was Sir Harry Payne.”
Claire caught at her friend’s arm as she went on.
“But I said ‘No;’ it is only a miserable scandal, based upon that wretched business at your house. ‘It’s Mrs Burnett,’ I said, ‘if it’s anyone.’ Claire, my dear, she is in this dreadful fix, and she is going off to-night with that fop to escape from it.”
Claire’s lips parted as she looked at the speaker in horror, realising it all now, and reading May’s excuse to gain time.
For a moment the deceit and cruelty of the act seemed too horrible; but she was now thoroughly realising the nature of her sister, and was so agitated that she felt almost paralysed as she stood gazing straight before her.