“Thank Heaven!” exclaimed Miss de Crespigny, “Mr. Lawford’s clerk has come at last. He will take charge of everything, and if anybody has tampered with my uncle’s papers,” she added, looking first at Launcelot and then at Eleanor, “I have no doubt that he will find out all about it. We are poor unprotected women, but I dare say we shall find those who will be able to defend our rights.”
“I don’t think we have any occasion to stop here,” said Mr. Monckton; “are you ready to come home, Eleanor?”
“Quite ready,” his wife answered.
“You have nothing more to say?”
“Nothing.”
“Put on your cloak, then, and come. Good night, Miss de Crespigny. Good night, Miss Lavinia.”
Mr. Lawford’s clerk came in while Gilbert Monckton and his wife were leaving the room. He was the same old man whom Richard Thornton had seen at Windsor. Eleanor perceived that this man was surprised to see Launcelot Darrell. He started, and looked at the artist with a half-frightened, half-inquiring glance; but the young man did not return the look.
CHAPTER XLVI.
LAURA’S TROUBLES.
Gilbert Monckton offered Eleanor his arm as they went out of the hall and down the steps before the front entrance.
“I would have got a conveyance for you if it had been possible, Eleanor,” he said; “but of course at this time of night that is utterly out of the question. Do you think that you can manage the walk home?”