‘Where is Faublas—anyone know?’ the Colonel asked of the company in general, and so doing I fancied his geniality waned a little and a trace of uneasiness came into his manner. As for me, my heart sank as I heard that name, of all others, used as my poor boy’s sobriquet.
‘Gone down to Chelsea, I believe,’ said the youth who had first spoken to me, hardly repressing a smile. ‘He announced he should dine to-night with the fair unknown.’
‘I question whether he will be at home even to you, then, Brownlow,’ the Colonel declared, forcing a laugh.
‘In that case I am afraid I must ask for a few minutes’ conversation alone with you.’
We went out into the Park; and there, pacing up and down under the leafless trees, I told all I thought fit. I watched his face as I did so. It was unusually serious.
‘I think, my dear fellow,’ he said at last, ‘you had very much better leave this matter alone.’
I asked why. He fenced with me, pointing out that I had nothing more than suspicion to go upon—no real evidence, circumstantial or otherwise. I urged on him the plain fact that the matter could not be let alone. A great felony had been committed; and it was an offence, not only against honour and right, but against law, to withhold such information as I could give.
‘You will repent it,’ he said.
Again I asked why.