“You may surely tell me his name,” I said.
“Herbert Hales,” she replied, not, however, without some hesitation. Then she added, “But I do wish Mr Greenwood, you would do me a favour and not mention the painful affair again. You do not know how it upsets me, or how much depends upon that man’s silence.”
I promised, although before doing so I tried my level best to induce her to give me some clue to the nature of the secret held by the uncouth yokel. But she was still obdurate and refused to tell me anything.
That the secret was something which affected herself or her own honour seemed quite plain, for, at every suggestion of mine to bring the fellow face to face with her, she shrank in fear of the startling revelation he could make.
I wondered whether that document, for her eyes only, which had been written by the man now dead, and which she had destroyed on the previous night, had any connexion with the secret known by Herbert Hales. Indeed, whatever the nature of that fellow’s knowledge, it was potent enough to compel her to travel down from London in order, if possible, I supposed, to arrange terms with him.
Fortunately, however, the household at Mayvill was unaware of the events of the previous night, and when at midday we left again to return to London, Gibbons and his wife stood at the door and wished us both a pleasant journey.
The house steward and his wife of course believed that the object of our flying visit was to search the dead man’s effects, and with the natural curiosity of servants, both were eager to know whether we had discovered anything of interest, although they were unable to question us directly. Inquisitiveness increases with a servant’s trustworthiness, until the confidential servant usually knows as much of his master’s or mistress’ affairs as they do themselves. Burton Blair had been particularly fond of the Gibbonses, and it almost seemed as though the latter considered themselves slighted by not being informed of every disposition made by their dead master in his will.
As it was, we only told them of one, the legacy of two hundred pounds apiece, which Blair had left them, and this had of course caused them the most profound gratification.
Having deposited Mabel at Grosvenor Square, and taken lingering leave of her, I returned at once to Great Russell Street and found that Reggie had just returned from the warehouse in Cannon Street.
Acting upon my sweet little friend’s appeal I told him nothing of the exciting incident of the previous night. All I explained was the searching of Blair’s writing-table and what we had discovered there.