“I could go by train, but a hansom will take me quicker,” he muttered to himself. “I hope to goodness she won’t be in; it’s Llewellyn I wish to have a chat with. Yes, I must investigate this matter, and I don’t want the mother to know anything about it until I can feel my bearings. There’s a way out of this somehow, and I believe the poor girl is nothing but a dupe. Can it be possible that she is shielding someone; but no, that can’t be the case, for when I went down to Wingfield she knew all about the story and never denied for a moment that she had written the letter. She looked sorry enough, but not surprised—no, not surprised. Bless me! if I know what the whole thing means. These girls, with their modern education, know a thing too much when they’re a match
for a shrewd old fellow like myself. But I’ll see Llewellyn. I’ll sound him, whatever happens.”
When Mr. Parker got to the Gilroys’ house it so happened that Llewellyn himself was going up the steps. He was just about to put his latchkey into the door when the merchant’s hearty voice arrested him.
Llewellyn turned round, and a smile broke over his face.
“But mother’s out, I am afraid, Mr. Parker. You’ll come in all the same though, won’t you?”
“Yes, Llewellyn, my man, I just will. I want to have a word with you, my boy.”
“Certainly, sir. Is there anything I can do?”
“Take me where we can be alone for a minute or two. Your sister isn’t in—eh?”
“Do you mean Leslie?”
“Yes, your eldest sister, Leslie.”