"It is blasphemy to say so," exclaimed Glynn indignantly. "Lambert may have a queer history, but no irreproachable member of the best society could be a better guardian of his daughter than he was! Do not let him hear you utter such an insinuation, should you ever meet again, or you might not like his reply!"
Deering elevated his eyebrows contemptuously. "You are remarkably loyal," he said. "Well, good-morning; I shall probably see you next week."
Thursday passed and no letter; well, there were twenty-four hours yet to spare. Glynn dined that day with Lady Gethin, and as usual outstayed the other guests.
"I haven't seen you for an age, Hugh," she said, settling herself in her favorite chair. "You are looking better, as if some life was waking up within you; but you are very restless and distrait; at dinner you did not seem able to attend to any one or anything for more than five minutes. Have you found any trace of the lost one?"
"I am too uncertain to talk about it—wait for a few days."
"Ah! then you have," cried her ladyship triumphantly. "I protest I would give my Louis Quatorze watch, diamonds and all, to know the truth of that extraordinary story, and to see the girl who has fascinated you—for she has—you know she has!"
"I will confess nothing, and discuss nothing with you, Lady Gethin," he returned laughing, and pulling his long dark moustaches. "I know the power of your fascination sufficiently to be aware that if I once began there is not a corner of my mind I would not turn inside-out for your inspection."
"Ah! that is all very fine," exclaimed Lady Gethin in high glee; "but you will not say a word more than you choose. If you ever find this young lady, you really must manage to let me see her."
"Would you come and see her?" asked Glynn, as delightful intoxicating possibilities floated before his eyes.
"Find me a decent excuse, and I'll come fast enough! Hugh, I suspect you know where she is?"