“He enquired for David Rendell.”
Morland threw down his cue.
“Well?”
“I am afraid Aline, who is a miracle of sagacity as a general rule, has made a mess of it. You mustn't be angry with my poor little girl. Her head is full of sweeter things.”
“What has she done?” Morland asked impatiently.
“I'll read: 'I told him that Mr. Rendell was a friend of yours, and gave him your present address. He muttered something about a false name and went away without thanking me.'”
“Good God!” cried Morland, “what damned fools women are! Did she say what kind of a man he was?”
Jimmie looked through the letter, and finding the passage, read: “'An odd-looking creature, like a mad Methodist parson!'”
Morland uttered an exclamation of anger and apprehension. His brow grew black, and his florid comely features coarsened into ugliness.
“I thought so. It could n't have been any one else. He was the only person who knew. She has given me away nicely. The devil only knows what will happen.”