“Where is Arthur?” Josina asked sharply.
“He left for London this morning—by the coach.”
“Ay, ay,” the Squire said. “That’s it.”
Clement plucked up courage. “And hearing that you wanted him, I came to explain. I feared from what the messenger said that there was something amiss.”
“Something amiss!” The Squire repeated the words in an indescribable tone. “That’s what he calls it! Something amiss!”
Clement looked from one to the other. “If there is anything I can do?”
“You?” bluntly. “Why, you be one of them!”
“No!” Josina interposed. “No, father. He has no part in it! I swear he has not!”
But, “One of them! One of them!” the Squire repeated in the same stubborn tone, yet without lifting his voice.
“No!” Josina repeated as firmly as before; and the hand that rested on her father’s shoulder slid round his neck. She held him half embraced. “But he may tell you what has happened. He may explain, sir?”