“These people are called Moffatt! Perhaps you are mistaking them for somebody else!” Guest interrupted eagerly: but he knew the futility of his hope before he heard the reply.
“No doubt they have half a dozen aliases! What does it matter what they choose to call themselves. You saw for yourself that the man recognised me just now. Sorry to interfere, you know, and all that, but I’d be nailing sorry to leave any girl I knew in such a caravansary. Thought I ought to tell you!”
“Thanks very much! You are perfectly right. I’ll send her off to-morrow,” said Guest, firmly. As he walked down the steps again he was smouldering with fury, with an impulse to walk into the theatre, denounce the adventurers to their faces, and bear Cornelia away to a place of safety. For all her assurance, events had proved that she was neither capable of taking care of herself, nor of choosing her own companions. She had been led away by impulse, like other girls; he liked her the more, not the less, for the discovery, and his heart softened at the thought of her disillusion. No use to worry her to-night! Let her have a good night’s rest, and to-morrow morning, bright and early, he would go round to the hotel, when Mr and Mrs Schuter, or Moffatt, or whatever their name happened to be, would once more find their quarters too hot to hold them!
Chapter Twenty.
On returning to the hotel that evening, Mr Moffatt announced that he and his wife had business on hand next morning, which would necessitate an early breakfast, and that once again they would be obliged to leave Cornelia to her own resources. He suggested, however, that they should all meet at Paddington Station at two o’clock, whence they could take train to Maidenhead for an afternoon on the river.
Cornelia hailed the prospect with delight, and mentally dedicated the morning to doing a picture-gallery, and to choosing a suitable present for her aunt and Elma Ramsden. Aunt Soph should have lace; something soft, and smooth, and womanly, to take the place of the prickly steel trimmings which seemed to constitute her one idea of adornment. Elma, dear thing, what should be chosen for her? Not clothes; it would not be good taste to offer another gift of the kind; a piece of jewellery would be best; something good and quiet, and unobtrusive, suitable for the wear of “a nice young girl.”
Cornelia chuckled to herself in prospective enjoyment next morning, as she repaired to the private sitting-room of the suite, where breakfast was invariably served. Her host and hostess had already risen from the table and were dressed for walking. Mrs Moffatt stood before the window looking down into the street with a pale and worried expression. Her husband was scribbling at a side table, but jumped up at Cornelia’s entrance, as if he had been anxiously awaiting her appearance.
“Ah, good-morning, Miss Briskett! We are just off, but I wanted to settle up with you first. Here’s the cheque, with many thanks! Perhaps you will kindly look over it, to see it is all right.”