"Good gracious me, ma'am!" he exclaimed; "is there anything amiss?"
"Yes," she answered, handing him the letter.
Mr. Larkspur read the letter to the end, and then read it again.
"This is a bad job," he said, calmly; "what's to be done now?"
"You must accompany me to Raynham Castle—you must help me to find my child!" cried Honoria, in wild excitement. "You are better now, Mr. Larkspur, you can bear the journey? For Heaven's sake, do not say you cannot aid me. You must come with me, Andrew Larkspur. I do not offer to bribe you—I say you must come! Bring me my darling safe to my arms, and you may name your own reward for that priceless service."
"No, no," said Mr. Larkspur; "I don't say that. I am well enough, so far as that goes, but how about our little schemes in London?"
"Never mind them—never think of them! What are they to me now?"
"Very well, my lady," answered Mr. Larkspur; "if it must be so, it must be. I must turn my back upon the neatest business that ever a Bow Street officer handled, just as it's getting most interesting to a well-regulated mind."
"And you'll come with me at once?"
"Give me one hour to make my plans, ma'am, and I'm your man," replied Mr. Larkspur. "I'll pack a carpet-bag, leave it down stairs, take a hackney coach to Bow Street, see my deputy, and arrange some matters for him, and be ready one hour from this time, when you'll be so kind as to call for me in a post-chaise—not forgetting to bring my carpet-bag with you in the boot, if you please. And now you be so good as to keep up your spirits, ma'am, like a Trojan—which I've heard the Trojans had an uncommon hard time of it in their day. If the child is to be found, Andrew Larkspur is the man to find her; and as to reward, we won't talk about that, if you please, my lady. I may be a hard-fisted one, but I'm not the individual to trade upon the feelings of a mother that has lost her only child."