Simon Quarle—restless and watchful like himself—met him presently wandering about the house; and once more faced him squarely, with a demand as to what he was going to do. "The girl's got to be lifted out of this slough of deceit and lies and humbug; she's too honest to live in it," said the old man. "Try gentle means, if you can—if you don't, I must try rougher ones."
"I've fully made up my mind what to do," said Gilbert in reply. "To-morrow our game of make-believe will end; Mr. Daniel Meggison has come to the end of his tether."
"I'm glad of it," said Quarle.
Finally, Gilbert sought again that servant who was responsible for the house, and gave him certain instructions. "I'm going away to-morrow," he said—"and from that time my friend Mr. Meggison's connection with the house ceases. You will say nothing about it, of course; you will simply give him to understand that you've got my instructions to close the place, and that he cannot remain here any longer. Do you understand? From to-morrow night they all go—every one of 'em."
"Very good, sir," replied the man, looking at him a little curiously.
Still telling himself that what he was doing was right, and that no other course lay open to him, Gilbert Byfield went unhappily out of the house, and wandered about in the grounds. "I'm a mean brute," he muttered to himself—"and I'm sneaking out of a business that I'm afraid to face openly. But it's no good: I can't look into her eyes and tell her the truth; I can't drive her back penniless and friendless into Arcadia Street. The child loves me; in a sense we are both waifs of fortune—and in that sense we'll face life together. The whole circumstances are so mad and strange that they must be faced in a mad and strange manner. And oh!—I mean to be good to her!"
While he stood there he saw before him, coming dancingly towards him through the trees, a little point of light; and knew it, after a moment or two, for the smouldering end of a cigarette. Wondering a little who this was at such an hour, he waited until the figure of a man followed the dancing point of light, and revealed itself as Mr. Jordan Tant. Mr. Tant, in evening dress, and looking even more immaculate than usual, expressed no surprise at seeing his friend, although in a curious way he seemed a little afraid of the big man facing him.
"Good evening, Byfield," said Mr. Tant precisely.
"Well—have you come to spy out the land, friend Tant?" demanded Gilbert, with a rough laugh.
"Yes—and no," said Mr. Tant, flicking the ash from his cigarette, and looking at it with his head on one side. "As you are aware, I am always doing something for others—or perhaps I should say for one other. Enid and her mother are naturally anxious to know what is happening to you; also they are curious concerning the people who have taken your cottage. You may not know that they are down here?"