He remained, as a matter of course, Mrs Thorne’s very sincere and attached friend; but, all the same, he had given Hazel a severe stab in the course of the letter, which again placed her conduct in an unsatisfactory light. Was she always to be accused of standing in the way of her mother’s and brother’s prospects? And as she asked herself that question, quietly folding the letters the while, she could not help seeing Mr Geringer’s selfishness showing through all.
But what was to be done? The people evidently meant to prosecute Percy, and at any moment he might be taken into custody. She knew enough of the law to see that he was in a very perilous position, and if her mother knew, she trembled for the consequences.
“I am glad I opened the letters,” she thought; “but now I know, what shall I do?”
A host of ideas passed through her brain, for the most part wild, impossible notions, that could not be carried out.
Percy must escape—go away somewhere; but how, and to what place?
This was unanswerable; and besides, she knew that sooner or later, the police, if in search, would be sure to find him.
No; he must stop and face it out—it would be the most honourable proceeding. But she wanted help—she wanted some one to cling to in this hour of difficulty; and to all intents and purposes she was alone, for it was impossible to ask her mother’s aid and guidance at a time like this.
What should she do?
Mr Geringer?
No; his letter showed how her refusal rankled in his breast, and if she appealed to him he might wish to make some bargain with her to act as a payment.