“You make yourself busy about my mother,” said Dolff, coming up to him, striking him upon the shoulder. “There’s nothing the matter with my mother: but you’ve got to explain to me—What does it mean? What do you want with him? What has he done? I never knew he was there,” cried the lad, “till the other day. And then I never suspected he was my father. Oh, don’t you know when one never has had a father, what one thinks he must have been? And then to see—that! but I must have satisfaction,” cried Dolff. “What has he done? What are you going to do?”
At this moment the door was opened hastily, and Gussy came in, followed by Meredith. There had been so much excitement in the house that they all came together for every new incident.
“Is my mother ill?” she said, with a glance at Mrs. Harwood in her chair. “Something has gone wrong. Dolff, who is this gentleman? and for heaven’s sake tell me what is it now? What has gone wrong?”
Only a glance at her mother, who was still but half sensible, supported in Janet’s arms, and then Gussy came and stood by her brother’s side, and looked at the stranger. She had no doubt that he had something to do with the secret in the house. Everything clustered round that, and was drawing to it like flying things to the light.
Dr. Harding, on his side, looked at the little crowd round him, meeting their eager eyes with reluctance and embarrassment.
“I presume that you are Miss Harwood,” he said, “but I cannot explain this matter to you. The less you know of it the better, my dear young people. I have no ill-feeling to your poor father—not the least, not the least: though I was one of the victims, I hope I’ve forgiven him freely. But justice is justice. If Adolphus Harwood is in this house, he must be given up.”
“Dear Gussy,” said Meredith behind her, “will you take my advice and go away, and get Dolff to go? Let me speak to this gentleman. I know all about the business affairs. I am to appear for your mother, you know. Let me speak to him, and hear what he has to say.”
Gussy gave him a look and a faint smile, but did not move. They all stood still gathered round the doctor like a ring, more anxious than hostile, and yet hostile too, hemming him in with a sort of enclosure of pale faces. Dr. Harding was greatly moved; he put out his hands as if to put them away—to deliver himself.
“God knows,” he said, “how I feel for you, you poor children! You break my heart; but if Adolphus Harwood has been living quietly here, living in comfort and luxury here, after bringing so many to ruin——”
“He has been living,” said Meredith, “concealed in a couple of rooms, for fifteen years. I don’t know who you are, or what right you have to be here, or to inquire into the affairs of this family.”