It was not I who persuaded him to do this. It
made no difference to me. If he had run away and left me, the
courts would have given me money. If he had died and I had been
a widow, he would have left me his property. But simply because
there was all this money in our hands, and because he
disappeared, his people and this man Pritchard suspect me."
"It is wicked," he muttered.
She turned slowly towards him.
"Mr. Tavernake," she said, "do you know that you can help me very
much indeed?"
"I only wish I could," he replied. "Try me."
"Can't you see," she went on, "that the great thing against me is
that Beatrice left me suddenly when we were on that wretched
expedition, and came back alone? She is in London, I know, quite
close to me, and still she hides. Pritchard asks himself why.
Mr. Tavernake, go and tell her what people are saying, go and
tell her everything that has happened, let her understand that
her keeping away is doing me a terrible injury, beg her to come
and let people see that we are reconciled, and warn her, too,
against Pritchard. Will you do this for me?"
"Of course I will," Tavernake answered. "I will see her
to-morrow."
Elizabeth drew a little sigh of relief.
"And you'll let me know what she says?" she asked, rising.
"I shall be only too glad to," Tavernake assured her.
"Good-night!"
She looked up into his face with a smile which had turned the
heads of hardened stagers in New York.
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