‘By the nine o’clock train. Stay and have a bite of something, lad. I do not believe thou hast been eating properly, or thou’dst be better able to bear this pother. It will be ready in ten minutes.’
‘Not now, Aunt Hessy, thank you,’ was his reply to her sensible proposal. ‘There is the more need for me to hurry back, since Madge is to call for me. I cannot make out how she did not reach my place before I started.—Good-bye.’
The dame had been watching him anxiously all the time; and now she laid her hand with motherly tenderness on his arm.
‘Thou art poorly, Philip: come back here to-night.’
‘I cannot promise that; but I will come as soon as possible.... Do you think it likely that Madge might have gone to see Mr Beecham?’ he asked abruptly.
‘What would she do that for?’ said Aunt Hessy with some surprise.
‘I don’t know—but it seems, they have struck up a great friendship.’ He spoke with affected carelessness, his eye scanning the floor.
‘Then I must tell thee, she has gone to Mr Shield, and will bring thee good news. Thou must learn the rest from herself. It would not be fair for me to take the pleasure from her.’
What had she gone to Mr Shield for? and what good news was she to bring him? Had she suspected or discovered that he was on the brink of ruin, and gone to plead for assistance? That would be a sting indeed. Hard as it might be for him to do it himself, it was unbearable to think that she should be brought to such a pass. This idea presented itself to him in all sorts of shapes, as he hurried back to Dunthorpe station, and it by no means tended to allay his agitation.
He drove straight from Liverpool Street to his chambers. They had been left in charge of one of the office lads, sent from Golden Alley for the purpose. This smart youth informed him that no one had called and no message had arrived during his absence.