“Very few words will serve to enlighten you. When your son robbed Miss Blair of her letters he was doubtless under the impression that he had regained possession of all that he had ever written to her. Such, however, was not the case. Miss Blair still retains two letters, both of them couched in language with which it would be impossible to find fault on the score of its ambiguity; in point of fact, they breathe a most fervent devotion, and abound with terms of endearment such as none but accepted lovers are privileged to make use of. Now, sir, there can be little doubt that if Miss Blair chose to enter an action for breach of promise against your son, the letters in question would of themselves go far towards securing her a verdict with heavy damages. But, while determined that the wrong which has been inflicted on her shall not go unpunished, she has no wish to proceed to extremities, unless driven thereto. What, therefore, she has empowered me to do, is to offer to give up the two letters in return for a cheque, signed by you, for three hundred guineas.”
“What!” shrieked the brewer, as he sprang to his feet, a patch of purple mantling in either cheek. “Three hundred guineas for a couple of worthless scrawls! What do you take me for? Get out of my office this instant and never let me set eyes on your ugly face again.”
Ambrose Lydd did not offer to stir.
“I beg to remark, Mr. Keymer, that I am usually considered to be rather good-looking,” he said with a quaint smile; “but in moments of excitement I am aware that we are liable to say things which we afterwards see reason to regret. But to come back to business. The letters in question, sir, if read in open court, as they undoubtedly will be if my client’s very reasonable offer is met by a refusal, will prove to be anything rather than worthless scrawls. I have brought copies of them with me for your perusal. Here they are, sir; read them through carefully, after which, I venture to assert that your opinion as to their worthlessness will be considerably modified.”
Speaking thus, the solicitor’s clerk produced the copies he had brought with him, and rising, laid them on the brewer’s blotting-pad.
Without a word more Mr. Keymer went back to his chair, his face still corrugated with a frown. He was annoyed with himself at having been surprised into a display of temper. Ambrose Lydd watched him keenly while he read the copies, but his features betrayed nothing. When he had come to the end of the second letter, looking Lydd steadily in the face, he said: “Sir, I find that my son is a more egregious ass than I believed him to be. Leave these documents with me, and let me have your address. You shall hear from me in the course of the week.”
A few days later Miss Hetty Blair had the satisfaction of opening an account with the Dulminster Banking Company, who placed to her credit a cheque for three hundred guineas which bore the signature of Robert Keymer.
CHAPTER XXIII.
ETHEL’S CONFESSION
It scarcely needs to be stated that Ethel Thursby’s letter to Launce Keymer was written with the full knowledge and sanction of her aunts. When the particulars of her interview with Hetty Blair were told them, they could but hold up their hands in horrified amazement. Their worst fears, never even hinted at to Ethel, had been more than realised; there could no longer be any doubt as to the nature of the motives by which Keymer had been influenced. His treatment of Ethel had been bad enough, but his treatment of Hetty Blair revealed a depth of depravity which caused the gentle hearts of the sisters at once to shiver with affright and glow with thankfulness when they called to mind their darling’s narrow escape from being united for life to such a man.
“I little thought I should live to see the day when I could truthfully say, ‘I am glad our money has been taken from us,’” remarked Miss Matilda. “But, here and now, I can say it. To the loss of our money we owe it that Ethel is not by this time Mr. Launce Keymer’s wife. It was one of those blessings in disguise at which we are prone to cavil because we fail at the time to recognise them for what they really are.”