They would have feted Stanhope and made much of him at Warburton Place, for Alan did not hesitate to pronounce such a man the peer of any. But the young detective was perversely shy.
He came one day, and received Leslie’s thanks and praises, blushing furiously the while, and conducting himself in anything but a courageous manner. Once he accepted Alan’s invitation to a dinner, in which the Follingsbees, Mr. Parks and Mr. Ainsworth participated. But he took no further advantages of their cordially-extended hospitality, and he went about his duties, not quite the same Dick Stanhope as of yore.
On her part, Leslie was very reticent when Stanhope and his exploits were the subject of discussion, although, when she spoke of him, it was always as the best and bravest of men.
“Parks talks of returning to England,” said her father one day at luncheon, “and he wants Stanhope to go with him.”
“Will he go?” asked Alan, in a tone of interest.
“I hope not; at least not until I have time to bring him to his senses.”
“Why, Papa!” ejaculates Leslie.
“Has our Mr. Stanhope lost his senses, uncle?” queries little Daisy anxiously.
“You shall judge, my dear. He has refused, with unyielding firmness, to accept from me anything in token of my gratitude for the magnificent service he has rendered us.”