Nothing matters, except saving his life! And here is a man who says he’ll do anything for me. Will he? We shall see!”
She had a word with Daintree before dinner. “Forgive you? I thank you with all my heart!” said she. And great was the change in her this evening. It was no time for gaiety, but Claire was animated; her eyes sparkled; she conversed freely on the topic of the hour; and when Mr. Harding was moved after all to give Daintree a judicious version of his attempt to provide fair play for a dastardly constitutent, with the result, the girl took her father’s breath away by looking hard at their guest, and declaring that she would finance the defence herself if she had the money.
“What on earth did you mean by saying that?” asked Mr. Harding afterwards. “Have you forgotten your word of honour, that nobody should ever suspect what had existed between you and Erichsen?”
This was when the girl had said good-night. Mr. Harding followed her upstairs. It was his first chance of speaking to her, for Claire and Daintree had been together in the garden all the evening.
“No, papa,” she replied; “I have forgotten nothing that I said to you. Mr. Daintree, at any rate, suspects nothing at all.”
“You said enough to make him!”
“I don’t think I did.”
“Not when you said you’d pay for a defence if you had the money? Are you aware that he thinks you were in love with the murdered man?”
“He thinks I was, but that something has since caused a complete revulsion of feeling—as to which I may as well explain everything.” And she told the incident
