“I have noticed that,” he said slowly. He looked at her with his cruel eyes. It seemed to her then that they danced as if with malevolent satisfaction.
“I will speak to you presently about your health,” he said. “You may want a warmer climate. I have noticed that cough. Don’t go out again at night—it is unwise. I will have a talk with you when I return from Devonshire.”
He nodded to her.
She made no answer, but went up-stairs to the drawing-room and sat down in her chair once more by the fire. Once or twice she coughed feebly; the cough gave her acute pain, she put her hand to her thin chest; then, taking up a heavy Oriental shawl she wrapped it round her figure. As she was doing so, some one tapped her on the shoulder, and she looked up with a start. Little Mrs. Ives was standing before her.
“Aye, Clary, here I be,” said the little woman. “I know well you didn’t expect me, and that you didn’t wish me to come, but I’ve kept it to myself for over a month and I can’t abear it no longer. I told that fine servant of yours to let me up. I took him by surprise and ran past him up the stairs. You needn’t glare at me like that, Clary, for here I be and here I’ll stay till I know the whole truth. Aye, Clary, my girl, I has found out your secret, and I know the name of the child. He’s Sir Piers Pelham, the rightful owner of Pelham Towers. I don’t mean to keep that secret to myself any longer.”
CHAPTER XXVII.
A BLACK CRIME.
Mrs. Ives’s appearance on the scene roused Clara. She questioned her mother eagerly. Very soon she had got to the bottom of the old woman’s knowledge. Mrs. Ives completely exonerated the boy of having broken his word.
“There’s not a more truthful nor a braver little chap in existence,” she cried. “He were always a near telling me, dear lamb! The whole thing worrited him awful, but he never did tell, never. Because he had given his word to you, Clary, nothing would make him break it. I don’t think red-hot irons would have wrung the truth from him, but he let it out in his sleep, bless him. He was restless, he had a bad headache. I gave him some quieting medicine, and he went to sleep in my arms, and in his sleep he began to talk and to mention the name of Pelham and Pelham Towers, and he cried out for some one called Dick and for a young lady of the name of Barbara.
“You’ll judge it were easy for me to put two and two together after that. But I thought I’d make certain sure afore I come to you, Clary, and I did. A month ago I went to Pelham Towers and I saw the young lady, the baronet’s wife, and I saw the housekeeper. I also saw the family vault. Dear heart! I heard a mighty piteous story about a coffin being put in and about one who went into the vault and who mourned as if his heart were broken. It was a deep plot, Clary, a deep plot, but I ha’ found it out. It ain’t your secret any more. It’s mine now.”
“What do you mean to do?” asked Clara at last.