“Where have you come from,—Russia?” he demanded.
I nodded.
“H’m! So you went back, after all. I thought as much! Who’s had your copy?”
“I’ve sent none; I went on private business,” I protested hotly. It angered me that he should think me capable of going back on him.
“I oughtn’t to have said that; I apologize,” he said stiffly, still staring at me intently. “But—what on earth have you been up to? More prison experiences? Well, keep your own counsel, of course. I’ve kept it for you,—as far as I knew it. Mrs. Cayley believes I’ve sent you off to the ends of the earth; and I’ve been mendaciously assuring her that you’re all right,—though Miss Pendennis has had her doubts, and nearly bowled me out, once or twice.”
“Miss—who?” I shouted.
“Miss Pendennis, of course. Didn’t you know she was staying with your cousin again? A queer coincidence about that portrait! Hello, here we are at Victoria. And there’s Cayley!”