I considered that Mr. Juke had been quite in his rights to speak to me as he had done, and I was not offended. But I must say I think I had the best of the interview. And it left me with the strong impression that he knew as well as I did that 'his friend Gideon' would in no circumstances venture to bring a libel action against any one in this matter.
I believed that the young clergyman suspected his friend himself, and was trying in vain to avert from him the Nemesis that his crime deserved.
Clare said to me when I rejoined her. 'What did Mr. Juke want to speak to you about, mother?'
'Nothing of any importance, dear,' I told her.
She looked at me in the rather strange, troubled, frowning way she has now sometimes.
'Oh, do let's go home, mother,' she said suddenly. 'I'm so tired. And I don't believe they're really starving a bit, and I don't care if they are. I do hate bazaars.'
Clare used once to be quite fond of them. But she seemed to hate so many things now, poor child.
I took her home, and that evening I told Percy about my interview with Mr. Juke.
'A libel action,' said Percy, 'would be excellent. The very thing. But if he's guilty, he won't bring one.'
'Anyhow,' I said, 'I feel it is our duty not to let the affair drop. We owe it to poor dear Oliver. Even now he may be looking down on us, unable to rest in perfect peace till he is avenged.'