“What do you mean to do in London?” asked Mrs. Scattergood. “Do you think Perry can have gone there?”
“I have no idea,” answered the Earl. “I am hoping that the Bow Street Runners will be able to help me to find out.” He held out his hand, and Miss Taverner put hers into it. “Goodbye,” he said curtly. “Keep a stout heart, Clorinda.” He bowed, and in another minute was gone.
“What was that he called you?” asked Mrs. Scattergood, momentarily diverted.
“Nothing,” replied Miss Taverner, flushing. “A stupid jest, that is all.”
She saw her cousin on the following morning, when he called to inquire whether any news had been heard of Peregrine. She informed him of Worth’s having gone to London, and requested him not to mention Peregrine’s absence to anyone. He said quickly: “I should certainly not speak of your affairs without leave, but why do you particularly wish me to be silent? Is this Lord Worth’s doing?”
“He thinks it best not to spread it abroad. I daresay he may be right. I must be guided by him.”
He took a turn about the room, and presently said with a little reserve: “I am aware that it is not for me to criticize. But what reason can he have for wishing to keep Perry’s disappearance secret? You tell me he has gone to Bow Street: that would be well done indeed—if he may be believed. You are to do nothing, to set no inquiries on foot: it is all to be left to him. Does he know that I am in this secret?”
“Yes,” she said. “Certainly he knows.”
He looked at her intently. “Ah, I understand! I am suspect.”
“Not by me,” she answered.