“Oh no, it is all arranged! There is truly nothing left to do.”
“You don’t think that I—as one having reached years of discretion—might perhaps be expected to nip this shocking affair in the bud?”
“Tell the Major, do you mean?” Pen cried. “Oh, Richard, you would not do such a cruel thing? I am persuaded you could not!”
He refilled his glass. “I could, very easily, but I won’t. I am not, to tell you the truth, much interested in the affairs of a pair of lovers whom I have found, from the outset, extremely tiresome. Shall we discuss instead our own affairs?”
“Yes, I think we ought to,” she agreed. “I have been so busy to-day I had almost forgot the stammering-man. I do trust, Richard, we shall not be arrested!”
“Indeed, so do I!” he said, laughing.
“It’s very well to laugh, but I could see that Mr Philips did not like us at all.”
“I fear that your activities disarranged his mind. Fortunately, news has reached him that a man whom I suspect of being none other than the egregious Captain Trimble has been taken up by the authorities in Bath.”
“Good gracious, I never thought he would be caught! Pray, had he the necklace?”
“That, I am as yet unable to tell you. It is to be hoped that Luttrell and his bride will not prolong their honeymoon, since I fancy Lydia will be wanted to identify the prisoner.”