What actually occurred was this. I had risen from the table when Annie entered with a telegram which, on opening, I found to be an urgent message from Langton, at Broadstairs, begging me to go there at once, as he had some important information to communicate to me.
From the time-table I found that a fast train left Victoria in an hour, and full of excitement I bade good-bye to Gwen, promising to wire her the result of the interview.
Soon after noon I strode down the steep street of the quiet little watering-place so beloved by Dickens. On that February day it was very chilly, and very deserted, but gaining the parade I crossed the footbridge, and, continuing past the Grand Hotel, went along the top of the cliffs beyond the town, to where stood the late Professor’s seaside red-brick home.
In the small but pretty drawing-room I was greeted by Ethelwynn and her lover, who were standing talking near the fire as I entered. The girl looked delightfully sweet in a pale blue blouse and dark brown skirt, her splendid hair dressed in a style that suited her admirably, while he, on his part, presented the appearance of the typical clean-limbed, well-bred Englishman. They were, indeed, a handsome pair.
“It’s very good of you, Mr Holford, to come down so quickly!” the girl exclaimed, as she took my hand. “Leonard wants to have a serious chat with you.”
And yet this was the girl who was privy to her father’s tragic end. Was it possible that her lover also knew the truth?
Langton invited me to a chair, and commenced by haltingly apologising for bringing me down from London.
“We, however, considered it necessary,” he went on; “necessary in the interests of us all that there should exist a clear and perfect understanding between us.”
“In what manner?” I asked Langton.