“Quite a delicious surprise. But you really mustn’t be seen here,” said Pledge, with a sneer. “The holy ones will think I am luring you back to perdition.”
“I don’t care what they say,” said the boy.
“Oh, Georgie! How ungrateful! how sinful of you! Go to them. They may even be able to tell you how to enjoy yourself in a police cell.”
It was gratifying to the senior to see the gasp with which the boy received this random shot.
“What do you mean?” faltered the latter.
“Really, hadn’t you better ask Swinstead? He’s your protector now. I have no business to interfere.”
“Do tell me what you mean?” said the boy, imploringly.
But just at that moment a step sounded in the passage outside, and Mansfield entered the study.
Heathcote promptly vanished, and Pledge, face to face with his antagonist, had something else to think about than Mr Webster’s pencil. The Captain, who had great faith in striking the iron while it is hot, had come down on the heels of his letter, determined that if any understanding was to be come to between him and Pledge, it should be come to promptly.
“You’ve had my note?” said he.