The man himself advanced calmly.
‘I must ask you to pardon the odd way in which I present myself to you, Mr Hadleigh,’ he said gravely, as he bowed with respect; ‘it is partly due to accident, partly to design.’
‘I am your debtor, Mr Beecham,’ answered Philip coldly, ‘on my own account and my uncle’s; but I am not conscious of anything you have done which can justify you in playing the part of a’——
‘You would say the part of a spy and a hidden listener to what was not intended for my ears,’ was the calm rejoinder, a smile of good-humoured approval on the kindly face. ‘I have been both, but I shall not lose all your respect when you understand the position. Be patient.—I was waiting in the room until the girl who admitted me could find an opportunity of telling Miss Heathcote that I wished to see her before seeking an interview with your father. She returned immediately to say that she had been unable to deliver my message, and that they were bringing the sick gentleman in here. She left me hurriedly. I did not wish to meet Mr Hadleigh until his leave had been asked, and I could not go into the hall without meeting him.’
‘Why should you avoid him?’
‘There are circumstances which might have made an unexpected meeting unpleasant. I am now aware that that was my mistake. At anyrate I remembered the secret of this panel, which was explained to me years ago by old Jerry Mogridge. He was then the only one who knew it. I was aware of the misconceptions my conduct might give rise to, but entered the place hoping to find the outlet to the garden. Some time was occupied in searching for it without success. I would have endured my ignominious imprisonment, however, had not Mr Hadleigh’s voice confirmed Dr Joy’s assurance that I might speak to him freely.’
He paused, as if desirous of some sign from the invalid that he might proceed. The latter assented with a slight movement of the head.
‘I do not regret my awkward position, Mr Hadleigh, since it has enabled me to hear what you have said to these young people when you could have no suspicion of my neighbourhood. Your treatment of them has done as much as the proofs placed in my hands by Miss Heathcote to convince me that, in the blind passion of youth and deceived by a scoundrel, I did you gross injustice. You know me: is it too late to ask your pardon?’
There was silence. Philip, in much perplexity, was looking alternately at the two men; Madge was watching with breathless interest, the dawn of a joyful smile on her face. At length, Hadleigh:
‘I trust it is never too late to ask pardon—or to grant it. There is my hand, Mr Shield.’