“Excuse my interrupting you, sir,” said Evan rising. “That is not quite proved yet. I’ll be back in half an hour.”
Cyril, from the window, saw him rush after a passing tram and board it with the expression of the Chief of Police in a cinema drama. “Poor devil!” he said to himself with amusement. “She’s going to catch it.”
Mrs. Vachell’s little maid was greatly surprised when the gentleman whom she had let out of the house not long before brushed past her with some muttered remark when she opened the door, and ran straight up to the drawing-room, where her mistress was having tea. Mr. Vachell had returned from the University and was enjoying himself with a muffin. Evan greeted him hurriedly, and said to Mrs. Vachell, “Can I speak to you a moment alone?”
“No, my dear Evan, I don’t think you can with that face,” she said, looking at him coldly, “you almost frighten me. Sit down there and have some tea, and tell us what is the matter. Ivor is quite happy having his upstairs.”
“He must pack up now and come with me, unless you can contradict what I have just been told,” said Evan. “But I know you will——” his voice was almost beseeching. “Evangeline is ill. She fainted and went to bed, and I think she is a little light-headed. She assured her father that you had made a plan to let her slip off the boat as it was starting and to join Ivor here and take him to her father’s house——” he paused anxiously.
“Yes, it is quite true,” she said without concern. “It evidently isn’t coming off now as Evangeline has gone back on it. Still I think she might have warned me. It is all the same to me what she does, but it is generally considered not to be playing the game to do that sort of thing.”
“Why did you do it?” asked Evan.
“Because it was the only way to stop your monstrous behaviour to a woman and her child. I would have done it for anybody.” Mr. Vachell had taken no part in what was going on, but was quietly proceeding with his tea.
“Did you know of this?” Evan asked, turning to him.
“Of course not,” he replied. “Is it likely?”