“We were almost thankful to know he was beyond the possibility of troubling us for two years,” she said. “At least, so we thought; and my husband went away with an easy mind. But two months ago Ronald came here in the middle of the night, saying that I must hide him: he had escaped from jail, and was penniless and in dread of recapture. What could I do? I took him in—Harry and Beryl were away—and hid him in the Tower rooms. It was easy enough: I had for years been in the habit of shutting myself up here, and the place is like a little house in itself. I procured dresses for him, like my own, so that if by chance he were seen he would be mistaken for me—you have seen how remarkable is the resemblance between us. I pretended to be almost always at work, so that meals were sent up here—for him: and laid in a store of biscuits and tinned foods for the times when I had to be downstairs.” She gave a weary little laugh. “One of the minor problems of my life has been the disposing of the empty tins!”
“And what have you lived on?” I demanded.
“Oh, anything. I had a good meal downstairs occasionally. Indeed, I have had no appetite. It has been ceaseless misery; the dread of being found out, the constant concealments and deceptions, the strain of being much with him—for he is no easy companion to live with at close quarters. Lately he has become very irritable, and almost from the first he rebelled against his imprisonment and insisted on going out at night. What I have endured on those nights, waiting here in fear and suspense! Of course, he was always dressed in my clothes; but I knew that sooner or later someone would meet him and speak to him—as you did one night upon the stairs!”
“Then it was he!” I exclaimed. “Oh, I’m so glad—I never could make out why you looked so cross and brushed past me so rudely!”
“I knew nothing about it until to-day,” she said. “He forgot to tell me. And he encountered Julia, the housemaid, one night downstairs—he was thoroughly frightened that time, and made sure he was found out.”
“And of course—it was he who caught Jack on the shore at night, and thrashed him!” I cried. “He need not have done it: the little chap was only playing.”
“Did the children tell you?”
“I saw it,” I said. “I had followed the children down, to see that they were safe. They have puzzled over your unexpected strength ever since.”
“Ronald told me as a great joke,” she said. “No wonder my poor little Jack was puzzled—I have not punished him in that fashion in his life.”
“As a matter of fact, he said he respected you highly!” I told her, and she smiled a little.