"And pray who is he? You seem to know!"
No answer, save twitching fingers, rocked body, lowered lids.
"If you were to hear it was that young Erichsen—would it surprise you very much? No, it would not!" It had only stilled her. "And now I intend to know why not! You have thrown sand enough in my eyes; but your manner this morning told me something, and I am determined to know all there is to know—before—I—leave—this—room."
And with no less emphatic deliberation the father strode to the door, locked it and pocketed the key; but was met on his return with such wild eyes and suppliant hands that even his harsh heart melted at the sight.
"Only tell me whether they have captured him," she said, "and I faithfully promise to tell you all."
"Well, then, they have not; but they precious soon will. Now keep your promise."
It was kept to the letter. She had been very wicked, she had deceived and disobeyed her father for months and years; but now she had her reward. She had been lonely at Winwood, so had Tom. They had just made friends when the fathers quarrelled; it was too hard for them to have to quarrel too; and Claire confessed that rough treatment had always stirred up rebellion within her, though never before to such purpose as then. So the friendship had continued, but had never been anything more until two years later, when Tom Erichsen was on the eve of sailing; and then—and then—
"I understand," said Mr. Harding, sarcastically; "that's quite enough. But why didn't he sail? How did you know he hadn't? And what was his connection with Blaydes?"
