'I do not say so,' replied the vicar, also rising, as if the interview was ended; 'but for the present you will excuse me saying more.'
'Sir!' exclaimed Bevil, with some heat.
'Goring—Goring,' muttered the vicar, eyeing Bevil's card; 'it is strange that the young lady never spoke to me of you, though in her grief she several times mentioned another friend.'
'Ah!—who?'
'Lord Cadbury.'
'Cadbury!' exclaimed Goring, with a contemptuous inflection of voice that did not escape the listener.
'Yes; who, by a very ample remittance—a thousand pounds, I believe—did much to ease and soothe her poor father's last days on earth.'
'Indeed!'
Whew! here was intelligence. His birthday gift had been attributed to, and evidently adopted by, that reptile Cadbury! And, finding that there was nothing to be made of the suspicious and over-wary vicar, he withdrew.
Scarcely had Goring, disappointed and dispirited, taken his departure, when Lord Cadbury, accompanied by Gaskins, having found Chilcote deserted, arrived at the vicarage to make the same inquiries, but with very different intentions. Impressed by the years and rank of his second visitor, the vicar admitted that he was cognisant of Miss Cheyne's movements, and, on consideration, promised to send her correct address to Cadbury Court when she wrote to him from London; for, knowing the helplessness of the young girl, even with Cadbury was the vicar wary.