Three days later Mr. Keymer senior was waited upon by Ambrose Lydd, whose employer had granted him a few hours’ leave of absence. The brewer, who was always affable and easy of access to possible customers, having glanced at his visitor’s card, which showed him nothing but the other’s name, requested him to be seated, and then looked blandly and inquiringly at him; but scarcely had the young solicitor’s clerk opened his lips before Mr. Keymer’s expression changed in a most remarkable degree.
“I am here to-day, Mr. Keymer, as representing the interests of a certain young lady, by name Miss Hetty Blair. It is a name, sir, that probably is not wholly strange to you.”
The brewer considered before answering. He was unable to see that anything would be gained by his denial of any knowledge of the name, while, on the other hand, there was a possibility that his doing so might lead to his detection in a fib, which would be decidedly unpleasant. Besides, he was anxious to learn what lay in the background.
“Really, sir, it is too much to expect that I should charge my memory with every name that may be casually mentioned in my presence,” was his cautious reply. “But, assuming that I may at some time or other have heard the name, what then?”
“Merely this, sir: that the lady in question, who resides at Dulminster, was, till some six or seven weeks ago, engaged to be married to your son, Mr. Launce Keymer, a fact of which you are possibly aware.”
“I am most certainly unaware of anything of the kind, for the very good reason that no such engagement as you speak of ever existed.” There was an angry sparkle in his eyes, but his tone was as dry and deliberate as ever. “That there may have been some silly harmless flirtation between the two, of a kind common enough among young people, I am willing to admit; but nothing more than that.”
“It was very much more than a harmless flirtation, Mr. Keymer, as your son, were he here, would scarcely have the effrontery to deny. It was a formal engagement, duly sanctioned by Miss Blair’s mother, at whose house your son was a frequent visitor, and by whom he was looked upon as her daughter’s future husband.”
“If some old woman chooses to make an ass of herself, that’s no concern of mine. I repeat, that the affair, as between my son and Miss Blair, was nothing more than a silly flirtation.”
“If that were the case, Mr. Keymer, why should your son have been so terribly anxious to get back certain letters addressed by him to Miss Blair, that he resorted to the extreme step of breaking open her workbox, an act which, had the lady been of a vindictive disposition, might have landed him in a very serious predicament indeed?”
The brewer shrugged his shoulders. “That is a question for my son to answer. And let me tell you, sir, that I am not in the habit of discussing his, or anybody’s affairs with strangers; which reminds me that I am still in the dark as to the nature of the business which brought you here.”