“I want a reliable man, Mrs. Dudley,” he said, returning to her; “a man who can be trusted to hold his tongue, if he be paid for doing so. Is there amongst the workpeople such a treasure to be found?”
“Yes,” she answered; “Morrison. I am certain we may trust him.”
“Where is he to be found?” asked her friend.
“I do not know his address, though I could find my way to his house. I will go and fetch him this moment.”
“I will accompany you,” he said; but next moment, remembering some one in the Dudley interest ought to remain on the premises, he stood perplexed and silent, while Heather said,—
“I am not afraid of going. Do you think, after to-night, any small thing will ever frighten me again?”
“Poor child, poor child,” he murmured, “what a life yours has been!”
“Don’t pity me,” she said; “do not, or my heart will break; it feels almost breaking as it is, and a kind word chokes me. I will go for Morrison; I will go at once.”
There was no help for it; so he went with her as far as the gate and watched her while she flitted away along the street—watched her till she turned a corner and was lost to view.
Then he went upstairs again to hear how the patient was doing, and after a chat with the doctor and nurse, for whom the doctor had sent, walked down to the gates again, and waited till Heather entered, bringing Morrison with her.