Mr. Verne was not blind to outward circumstances. He knew full well what had prompted the deed, and he shuddered as he thought of his guileless child associated with such a character. He was in a quandary as to what steps to take that he could ward off suspicion.
Mr. Verne wished to keep the affair a secret until he could have further ground for action. He knew that Mrs. Montgomery would be a sure ally, but second thoughts prompted him to say nothing of the matter just then, so he calmly supped his coffee at luncheon and talked over certain little plans with more than ordinary interest.
"Mr. Lawson is much engaged lately," remarked Mrs. Montgomery, as she passed a second fragrant cup of coffee to Mr. Verne; "he only had time to make a short call last evening. I forgot to tell you before."
"What is the matter, Stephen, you look alarmed or surprised or some such way that I cannot describe," said the woman, glancing again at her brother-in-law.
"I must give you credit for having more of the imaginative than I thought, Hester," said Mr. Verne, trying to cover his agitation with an accusation.
"I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or not, Stephen," said Mrs. Montgomery helping herself to another of the delicious cheese cakes, the pride of the time-honored cook at "Sunnybank."
"You were speaking of Mr. Lawson, Hester. What had he to say?"
"Nothing of much consequence, only that he was much occupied during the week. He seemed in such good spirits that I told him that he must have fleeced some poor mortal unmercifully."
"Hester you are a dreadful woman. It is a good thing that people don't mind what you say."
"It would make little difference to me whether they would or would not, Stephen. I shall always say just what my evil thoughts prompt me to say, and as you remark that is considerable."