“I must bid you good-day, sir,” he said. “For my daughter’s sake and my own, you must expect that I will use every means to regain the property which I believe to be rightfully mine.”
“And I will do my best to keep what I have got, and I rather think I shall succeed,” answered the attorney, as the captain left the room without deigning to cast another look upon his relative.
The door had been left open, and the conversation had been heard by several of the servants and workmen. They were mostly creatures of Mr Sleech, for he only patronised those he thought likely to serve him in any way he might require. They had collected in the hall as the captain passed through it—some to gaze at him with curiosity, not unmixed perhaps with pity; others holding their hands to their mouths, as if to hide their laughter.
“I told you what was true, captain, although you did not believe me,” said the man who had admitted him. “I hope you won’t be for doubting a gentleman’s word again when he speaks the truth.”
The captain made no answer to the fellow’s insolence; but, stepping into the post-chaise, ordered the man to drive instantly to Lynderton.
Madam Everard received her nephew with an anxious countenance.
“Where is Mabel?” he exclaimed; “has anything, too, happened to her?”
“She is alive, and I hope well,” answered his aunt. “The poor girl, her feelings have been sorely tried, first by her anxiety about you, and then by the fearful position in which Harry Tryon has been placed.”
She then told him of the mutiny, and of the way in which Harry had been implicated.
“She knows also that he saved your life, and that of course has not tended to decrease her love for him.”