“And a very pretty girl it represents,” replied Walter, examining it. “You might have said a great deal more in her praise without being charged with maternal vanity. Having seen this, I can make no mistake.”
“Not easily; for she wears the same blue serge dress, and the same hat. I'm sorry you'll lose your room, but we'll find a bed for you.”
“Oh, it can't be helped!” he cried, affecting an indifference he did not feel. “Pray has Mr. Tankard been here to-day?”
“I've seen nothing of him as yet,” she replied.
“Well, then, I'll be off. I'll soon bring your daughter back to you.”
“Dear me, how surprised she'll be!” cried Mrs. Hartley. “She'll wonder who you are.”
“Don't be afraid. I'll explain matters.”
As Walter went forth, he noticed a stout ash-plant hanging up in the passage, and took it with him—very fortunately, as it turned out.
Pleased with the task he had undertaken, he marched along quickly, and did not remark that Sigebert, who had seen him come out, was on his track.
A boat had just landed its passengers as Walter reached the pier, but he saw no one among them bearing the slightest resemblance to the pretty damsel he was looking for. However, it was not yet twelve o'clock.