In her secret heart, she was very apprehensive of Murchison. She knew he was suspicious of her, and he had a sort of elder brother affection for Pomfret. She was not by any means sure as to the lengths to which this fraternal feeling might lead him. It might even inspire him to evoke the assistance of the Pomfret family, and then the security of her present position might be menaced.
The secret marriage was, after all, in the nature of a gamble. If things turned out as she expected, if the old aunt died in reasonable time, the odds were in her favour. She could twist Jack round her little finger. But nobody knew better than this astute young woman of the world that there is many a slip betwixt the cup and the lip. Something that she had not calculated, not foreseen, might happen at any moment, and her house of cards might tumble to the ground. Her adventurous life had taught her never to be too sure of momentary prosperity.
She was a little bit nervous and "jumpy," like her brother, to-night. Her smile was a little forced, her high spirits rather assumed. The wedding-ring, the marriage certificate hidden from sight, were great assets. And yet, was it all just a little too good to be quite true?
Murchison talked with the brother, desultory sort of talk, hardly conscious of what he was saying. His ears were straining for the sound of that eletric-bell which would herald the arrival of Davidson and his colleague.
And it came very quickly. There was a loud, imperative peal. Burton started from his seat, and forgot his assumed good manners.
"Who the devil is that?" he cried fiercely. "Do they want to knock the house down?" It was the vulgar exclamation of a very vulgar man.
Miss Burton was more mistress of herself, but Hugh observed that her cheek went a shade paler. Well, it was only natural. These two had been living in fear of the law for more years than they cared to remember. And they had thought they were safely in harbour. Poor fools!
She turned to Pomfret, and forced a wan smile. "It is really quite alarming, Mr. Pomfret, visitors at this time of the evening. And you know so well that nobody in Blankfield, except yourselves, ever crosses our threshold."
The happy Jack, the husband of a few short hours, was quite unperturbed. He smiled back at her confidently.
"Somebody come to the wrong house, I should say. Why, you have gone quite pale! What a nervous little thing it is!" He whispered the last sentence in a lover-like tone.