“I'll follow this clue to the end,” said David Arden. “I sha'n't make much of it, I fear; but if it ends, as others in the same inquiry have, in smoke, I shall, at least, have done my utmost, and may abandon the task with a good grace, and conclude that Heaven declines to favour the pursuit. Taken for all-in-all, he was the best of his generation, and the fittest to head the house. Something, I thought, was due, in mere respect to his memory. The coldness of Reginald insulted me. If a favourite dog had been poisoned, he would have made more exertion to commit the culprit. And once in pursuit of this dark shadow, how intense and direful grew the interest of the chase, and—— Here we are at the hall-door. Don't mind knocking, ring the bell,” he said to the driver.
He was himself at the threshold before the door was opened.
“Can I see my brother?” he asked.
“Sir Reginald is in the drawing-room—a small dinner-party to-day, Sir—Lady May Penrose, and Lady Mary Maypol, they returned to town in Lady May Penrose's carriage, Lord Wynderbroke remains, Sir, and two gentlemen; they are at present with Sir Reginald in the smoking-room.”
He learned that Miss Arden was alone in the small sitting-room, called the card-room. David Arden had walked through the vestibule, and into the capacious hall. The lights were all out, but one.
“Well, I sha'n't disturb him. Is Miss Alice——”
“Yes, Alice is here. It is so kind of you to come!” said a voice he well knew. “Here I am! Won't you come up to the drawing-room, Uncle David?”
“So you want to consult Uncle David,” he said, entering the room, and looking round. “In my father's time the other drawing-rooms used to be open; it is a handsome suite—very pretty rooms. But I think you have been crying, my poor little Alice. What on earth is all this about, my dear! Here I am, and it is past eleven; so we must come to the point, if I am to hear it to-night. What is the matter?”
“My dear uncle, I have been so miserable!”
“Well, what is it?” he said, taking a chair; “you have refused some fellow you like, or accepted some fellow you don't like. I am sure you are at the bottom of your own misery, foolish little creature! Girls generally are, I think, the architects of their own penitentiaries. Sit there, my dear, and if it is anything I can be of the least use in, you may count on my doing my utmost. Only you must tell me the whole case, and you mustn't colour it a bit.”