'I suppose you know something of his belongings,' returned the man with a
shrewd glance. 'Now that is what me and my mates say. We would none of us
be surprised if "Gentleman Jack" has respectable folk belonging to him.
He has not quite our ways. He is a cut above us, and clips his words like
the gentlefolk do. But he is an industrious young fellow, and does not
give himself airs.'
'Could you not find out for me where he lives?'
'Well, for the matter of that, you might ask him yourself, miss; he will
be here again to-morrow morning, and I am off to Watford on a job. Jack
is not at work regularly in these parts. He is doing a turn for a mate of
his who is down with a touch of colic. He is working at Bayswater mostly,
and he will be here to-morrow morning.'
'You are sure of that?'
'Oh yes. Tom Handley won't be fit for work for a spell yet. He will be
here sharp enough, and then you can question him yourself.' And, bidding
me a civil good-evening, the man took up his tools and went heavily
downstairs, evidently expecting me to follow him. I went back and stole
up quietly to my room. Aunt Philippa and Jill had returned from their
drive. I could hear their voices as I passed the drawing-room; but I
wanted to be alone to think over this strange occurrence.
My pulses were beating high with excitement. Not for one moment did I
doubt that I had really seen Eric in the flesh. Gladys's intuition was
right: her brother was not dead. I felt that this assurance alone would
make her happy.
If she were only at Heathfield, or even at Bournemouth, I would telegraph
for her to come; I could word the message so that she would have hastened
to me at once; but Paris was too far; too much time would be lost.
Uncle Max, too, had been called to Norwich to attend a cousin's
death-bed: I had had a note from him that very morning, so I could not
have the benefit of his advice and assistance. I knew that I dared not
summon Mr. Hamilton: the brothers had parted in ill blood, with bitter
words and looks. Eric looked on his step-brother as his worst enemy. All
these years he had been hiding himself from him. I dared not run the risk
of bringing them together. I could not make a _confidante_ of Aunt
Philippa or Uncle Brian. They had old-fashioned views, and would have at
once stigmatised Eric as a worthless fellow. Circumstantial evidence was
so strong against him that few would have believed in his innocence. Even
Uncle Max condemned him, and in my own heart there lurked a secret doubt
whether Gladys had not deceived herself.
No, my only course would be to speak to him myself, to implore him for
Gladys's sake to listen to me. My best plan would be to rise as early as
possible the next morning, and to be on the balcony by six o'clock. I
should see the men come in to their work, and should have no difficulty
in making my way to them. The household was not an early one, especially
in the season. I should have the house to myself for an hour or so.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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