"You have a good memory, Simms," observed his master, smiling.
"And so I have, sir. I won't take upon me to say that those were the precise words used, but I know they are not far out on either side. Watson said afterwards that he'd lay half-a-crown Henry was the right name; though he put it down as Henry Jebb."
"Was he a young man?" asked Miss Brabazon; feeling how superfluous was the question in her certainty of conviction.
"Oh yes, mem; youngish, that is."
"That's all, Simms; you may go. Has this helped to solve your doubts at all, ma'am?" continued the jeweller, turning to Miss Brabazon.
"It has indeed," she sadly said. "We have suspected him—at least some of us did—from the first. His name is not Jebb. But I would rather not say any more about it. Do not think me uncivil," she hastened to add; "indeed I am sensible of your kind courtesy, and thank you very much. You will keep the pencil safe; and please keep—if you would so far oblige me—the matter secret too."
He came round to open the door for her, assuring her of his discretion, and that the pencil would be perfectly safe.
"Mr. Henry!" she repeated over and over again to herself as she went home. "And I had nearly overcome those doubts of him that so pained me. But the impudence of his using poor, unconscious Mr. Jebb's name!"
And the "impudence" of the thing did strike upon her so forcibly that, in spite of her distress, she stood still and gave way to a burst of laughter, unable to restrain it within bounds.
Dr. Brabazon was alone in his study when she entered, looking over some books just brought in. As if anxious to get the communication over, she sat down at once on a stool at his feet, and told him all. It must be remembered that his suspicions had never been directed to Mr. Henry, and for the first few minutes he really thought his daughter was dreaming, or that the day's heat had affected her usually cool brain.