"But exceedingly good to her father after our poor sister's death."
"Very, very good," said Miss Frances, and both sisters blinked their eyes as Jimmy rose to say "good-bye." He was, however, not to make his escape just yet. The Misses Dobson were obviously disturbed in mind. They could not tolerate the idea of Bridget's whereabouts remaining unknown, and all Jimmy's coolness and assurance were required to restore them to anything resembling tranquillity.
He left the house with a feeling that the scent of lavender must be still clinging to his clothes, and the next morning found him at Crowborough. There, however, he could obtain no news of Bridget, and now he began to wonder whether it was probable she had gone to Paris, where she had lived with David Rosser during the last years of his life. It was on Monday morning that Sybil saw Jimmy in the act of parting from a stranger at the door.
"Who was your visitor?" she inquired, having waited in the dining-room for the purpose.
"A man named Winchester—a private detective," said Jimmy.
"Oh, my dear!" exclaimed Sybil, "how sincerely I wish you would let
Miss Rosser go her own way!"
"Haven't I succeeded yet," demanded Jimmy, "in making you understand that her way will always be mine?"
"And yet you know how horridly she treated poor Colonel Faversham, Jimmy. You have always insisted on truth and honesty before anything——"
"Now I only insist," said Jimmy, "that Bridget shall become my wife."
At this Sybil grew reckless.