After his interview with Kirby Griggs, John Clare got back to the Chase in ample time for dinner. On leaving home in the morning he had merely told his father that a pressing matter of business would take him to London for a few hours, and Sir Gilbert had asked no questions. This evening father and son dined alone. A note from Lady Pell had come to hand in the course of the afternoon, stating that she had been persuaded into staying another day at The Shrublands, but that she and Miss Thursby would be back at the Chase without fail on the morrow.
John Clare kept his news to himself till dinner was over, and Trant had finally shut the dining-room door, leaving the two gentlemen over their dessert. John would not tell it before, fearing lest his father’s mental excitement on hearing it might take away his appetite for the time, which, in view of all he had gone through of late, was not a desirable thing to do.
“Father, you would hardly guess where I have been to-day,” he began, in as indifferent a tone as he could assume as he cracked and began to peel a walnut.
“I am a poor hand at guessing, Alec.”
“I have been to London and have had a long interview with my wife.”
“So!—Only some very strong motive, I should imagine, would have impelled you to seek such an interview.”
“It would have been next to impossible to find a stronger motive—as you shall hear.”
He finished peeling his walnut before he resumed.
“As the result of a vile conspiracy you had been led to believe that Luigi Rispani was your grandson. In the anonymous letter written by me, which was the first thing to open your eyes, you were informed that your grandchild was a girl and that she had died in infancy. Only the day before yesterday certain facts were brought to my knowledge which led me to doubt whether my daughter really had died when only a few months old, as I had been induced to believe, and whether, in point of fact, she might not still be living. It was the determination to get at the truth of the matter which led me to seek an interview with my wife.”
He had spoken in studiously quiet tones, but already Sir Gilbert’s hands were twitching with nervous excitement.