“Is she coming?”
“She is coming today, to lunch and spend the afternoon with my wife and my girls.”
“Are Mrs. Bruff, and your daughters, in the secret?”
“Inevitably. But women, as you may have observed, have no principles. My family don’t feel my pangs of conscience. The end being to bring you and Rachel together again, my wife and daughters pass over the means employed to gain it, as composedly as if they were Jesuits.”
“I am infinitely obliged to them. What is this key?”
“The key of the gate in my back-garden wall. Be there at three this afternoon. Let yourself into the garden, and make your way in by the conservatory door. Cross the small drawing-room, and open the door in front of you which leads into the music-room. There, you will find Rachel—and find her, alone.”
“How can I thank you!”
“I will tell you how. Don’t blame me for what happens afterwards.”
With those words, he went out.
I had many weary hours still to wait through. To while away the time, I looked at my letters. Among them was a letter from Betteredge.