Mr. Flint went to the lamp, unrolled the ball of telegrams, seized one and crossed the room quickly, and held it out to her. His hand shook a little.
“Read that!” he said.
She read it: “Estimate that more than half of delegates from this section pledged to Henderson will go to Austen Vane when signal is given in convention. Am told on credible authority same is true of other sections, including many of Hunt's men and Crewe's. This is the result of quiet but persistent political work I spoke about. BILLINGS.”
She handed the telegram back to her father in silence. “Do you believe it now?” he demanded exultantly.
“Who is the man whose name is signed to that message?” she asked.
Mr. Flint eyed her narrowly.
“What difference does that make?” he demanded.
“None,” said Victoria. But a vision of Mr. Billings rose before her. He had been pointed out to her as the man who had opposed Austen in the Meader suit. “If the bishop of the diocese signed it, I would not believe that Austen Vane had anything to do with the matter.”
“Ah, you defend him!” cried Mr. Flint. “I thought so—I thought so. I take off my hat to him, he is a cleverer man even than I. His own father, whom he has ruined, comes up here and defends him.”
“Does Hilary Vane defend him?” Victoria asked curiously.