“Then I’m sorry if they’ve been anxious, but I can’t understand the grounds for it. In fact, everybody I’ve met seems to have gone crazy, except you and Jack.”
“We knew the truth,” said Muriel. “There are a number of explanations you will have to make, but you had better go in.”
The next moment the door opened and Gertrude appeared, as if in search of Muriel. She saw the group and broke into a startled cry.
“Cyril!”
He ran toward her and Prescott suggested that it might be advisable for him to retire, but Muriel would not agree.
“Give them a few minutes, Jack, and then we’ll go in together; you are one of us now and must be acknowledged. Besides, you have a right to hear what Cyril has to say.”
They walked briskly up the trail and when they turned to come back Muriel glanced at Prescott with a smile.
“Jack dear, I like him, but he said something that was true. I should never have fallen in love with the real Cyril Jernyngham.”
They found the others in the large sitting-room. Cyril was talking gaily, though Prescott concluded from one remark that he had not yet given a full account of his adventures. Jernyngham sat rather limply in an easy-chair, as if the relief of finding his son safe had shaken him, but his eyes were less troubled and his manner calmer. He rose when he saw Prescott.
“Mr. Prescott,” he said, “I must own before these others, who have heard me speak hardly of you, that I have done you a grievous wrong. I have no excuse to urge in asking you to forgive it. There is nothing that now seems to mitigate my folly.”