Parker remained at the station in a state of tearful collapse. She was
terribly afraid of being questioned and stormed at by the General when
she got back for neglect of her trust. She was certainly what Flossy had
called her--"a faithful fool." She wanted to do all that her mistress
required; but it had not as yet even occurred to her that Mrs. Vane was
quite certain to require utter silence, towards the General and
everybody else, on the question of her disposition of the day. And, if
silence was impossible, a good bold lie would do as well. Parker had not
yet grasped the full amount of devotion that was expected of her.
Hubert had seldom been more surprised in his life than when the
elegantly-dressed lady who was ushered into his sitting-room proved to
be his sister Florence. She had never visited him before. He sprang up
from his writing-table, which was piled high with books and manuscripts,
flung a half-smoked cigar into the grate, and greeted her with a mixture
of doubt and astonishment, which amused if it did not flatter the astute
Mrs. Vane.
"This is indeed an unexpected pleasure! I hope you are not the bearer of
ill news, Flossy! Is anything wrong at Beechfield?"
"Oh, dear, no! I came up to see my dentist," said Flossy carelessly,
"and I thought that I would give you a call _en passant_. So these are
your rooms? Not at all bad for a bachelor!"
"That is high praise from you, I suppose," said Hubert, smiling faintly.
"But you do not look at all well, Hubert. What is the matter with you?
You look terribly fagged!"
Her remark was justified by his appearance. His face had a drawn look
which added ten years to his age; his eyes seemed almost to have sunk
into his head. He made an impatient gesture, and looked away.
"I have not been very well," he said; "but there is no need to speak
about it. I am very busy, and I want rest--change of scene and air."
"Why not come down to Beechfield?"
He gave a slight but perceptible shudder.
"No," he said briefly, and then stood leaning against his writing-table,
and was silent.
"Hubert," said his sister, a little more quickly than usual, "I said
that I wanted to see my dentist, but I had another reason for coming to
town. Can you tell me where I can find a file of the _Times_ newspaper
for the early months of the year 187-?"--she mentioned the year of
Sydney Vane's death and the trial of Andrew Westwood.
"You want--the trial?" said her brother, with an evident effort. She
bowed her head.
"Why?"
"I have forgotten one or two points in the evidence. I want to recall
them to my mind."
He stood looking at her silently.
"It doesn't matter," she said, feigning indifference, and rising as if
to take her leave; "I can see the papers in a public library, no doubt.
The General would not have a copy left in the house. I will go
elsewhere."
"It is needless," Hubert answered, in a gloomy tone. "I have kept copies
myself. Wait a moment, and I will bring them to you."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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