She had even told him of the two anonymous letters received by Godfrey Pavely—but with regard to them she had of course deliberately lied, stating that Godfrey had shown them to her, and that she still had no idea from whence they came.
Her listener had made very few comments, but he had shown, quite early in their conversation, a special interest in the personality of Oliver Tropenell. He had even extracted from Katty a physical description of the man she declared to be now Mrs. Pavely's lover, and probable future husband.
At first, say during the first half-hour, she had felt extraordinarily at ease with the remarkable old man who had listened to her so attentively, while the fine eyes, which were the most arresting feature of his delicate, highly intelligent countenance, were fixed on her flushed face. But now, with the shadows of evening falling, she could not see him so clearly, and there came a cold feeling about Katty Winslow's heart. There was very little concerning her own past relations with Godfrey Pavely that this stranger did not now know. She felt as if he had uncovered all the wrappings which enfolded her restless, vindictive, jealous soul. But she herself, so far, had learnt nothing from him.
She began to feel very tired, and suddenly, whilst answering one of his searching, gentle questions, her voice broke, and she burst into tears.
He leant quickly forward, and laid his thin, delicate right hand on hers. "My dear Mrs. Winslow, please forgive me! This has been a painful ordeal for you. I feel like a Grand Inquisitor! But now I am going to bring you comfort—I ought not to say joy. But before I do so I am going to make you take a cup of tea—and a little bread and butter. Then, afterwards, I will show you that I appreciate your generous confidence in telling me all that you have done."
He waited a moment, and then said impressively, "I am going to put you in the way to make it possible for you to avenge your dead friend, I think I may also say my dead friend, for Mr. Godfrey Pavely and I had some very interesting and pleasant dealings with one another, and that over many years."
She was soothed by the really kind tone of his low voice, even by the caressing quality of his light touch, and her sobs died down.
Mr. Howard took his hand away, and pressed a button close to his chair. A moment later a tray appeared with tea, cake, bread and butter, and a little spirit lamp on which there stood what looked like a gold tea-kettle.
"You can put on the light, Denton," and there came a pleasant glow of suffused light over the room.
"Perhaps you will be so kind as to make the tea?" said Mr. Howard in his full, low voice.