“Were none of the children saved?”
“What child’n?” asked the other quickly. “I didn’t say there was child’n aboord, did I?”
Kenneth was somewhat confused at having made this slip; and Gaff, suddenly changing his tactics, stopped short and said—
“I tell ’ee wot it is, young man—seems to me you’re pumpin’ of me for some ends of yer own as I’m not acquainted with; now, I tell ’ee wot it is, I ain’t used to be pumped. No offence meant, but I ain’t used to be pumped, an’ if you’ve got anything to say, speak it out fair and above board like a man.”
“Well, well, Gaff,” said Kenneth, flushing and laughing at the same moment, “to say truth, I am not used to pump, as you may see, nor to be otherwise than fair and aboveboard, as I hope you will believe; but the fact is that a very curious thing has occurred at our house, and I am puzzled as well as suspicious, and very anxious about it.”
Here Kenneth related all that he knew about the little girl having been left at Seaside Villa, and candidly admitted his suspicion that the child was his niece.
“But,” said Gaff, whose visage was as devoid of expression as a fiddle figure-head, “your brother-in-law’s name was Graham, you know.”
“True, that’s what puzzles me; the child’s Christian name is Emma—the same as that of my niece and sister—but she says her last name is Wilson.”
“Well, then, Wilson ain’t Graham, you know, any more nor Gaff ain’t Snooks, d’ye see?”
“Yes, I see; but I’m puzzled, for I do see a family likeness to my sister in this child, and I cannot get rid of the impression, although I confess that it seems unreasonable. And the thought makes me very anxious, because, if I were correct in my suspicion, that would prove that my beloved sister and her husband are drowned.”