He drew closer to the girl.
“Look here, Eileen, this is an awkward affair. You’ve got yourself into a bad hole. I know the Scorton. She’ll send that cheque off to-night to her bank—no, first thing to-morrow morning. I could see it in her eye. She suspects it’s a dud. And by to-morrow night she’ll know it hasn’t been met. And then she’ll make a row. She’ll make the devil of a row. I know her.”
He paused, letting this sink in.
“You’ll need to get out of it somehow.”
The girl’s defences were down completely. This brute, with his mottled face and close-set eyes, had seen the whole affair. If he knew, everybody else might know also. He had told her nothing she had not guessed for herself; but the mere putting of it into definite words made it seem a worse business than ever. She made an unconscious gesture, as though trying to ward off the catastrophe. Morchard grew more sympathetic.
“Now, listen, Eileen. There’s an easy way out. Two hundred’s nothing to me; I can easily spare it. I’ll lend it to you. You can pay it back any time you like; I shan’t miss it. That’s all right now. All your worries over! Come to my room to-night and I’ll give you a cheque. You can go up to town to-morrow, first thing, and pay it into your bank in time to meet that cheque you gave the Scorton.”
Before the girl could reply Mrs. Brent’s voice sounded across the water:
“Miss Cressage!”
Eileen started at the call; and, turning, she saw Mrs. Brent and Mrs. Tuxford coming from among the trees.
“Thank goodness, they’re too far off to have heard what we were saying,” she reflected, measuring the distance with her eye.