"Certainly! But on the evidence before them--"

"A fig for the evidence!" interrupted Miss Berengaria. "I go by my own knowledge of the boy. He wouldn't kill a fly."

"Ah! But you see, the men on the jury never met Bernard."

Finding the lawyer too strong for her, Miss Berengaria changed the subject, being determined not to acknowledge defeat. "Have you heard from young Gore?" she asked.

"No. He may be drowned for all I know."

"For all you know, and you know nothing."

"More's the pity, Miss Plantagenet. Did I know anything I might be able to satisfy myself that Gore is alive."

"Of course he is alive."

"On what ground do you say that?" asked Durham, surprised.

"On the grounds of common sense. Bernard is not the man to die when his living is needed to prove his innocence."

This was so truly a feminine argument that Durham, with a shrug, held his tongue. "There's no more to be said," he remarked.

"I know that," snapped Miss Berengaria in a bad humor. "I am quite upset by all the rubbish those fools have been talking. What's to be done next?"

"I shall go down to Gore Hall and read the will."

"Ha!" said the old lady, brightly. "Can you do that until you are sure of the death of Bernard?"

"Yes. He may be dead after all--"

"He isn't, I tell you."

"Then it is all the better he should be thought to be so," said Durham, giving up the point in the face of this firm opposition.

"Why?" asked Miss Berengaria promptly.

"Because no search will be made for Gore should he be alive and in hiding. Yet I fear Beryl will search."

"I don't see why he should. Oh, I see what you mean. Sir Simon, the horrid old--Well, we'll say nothing about that. But he has left the money to Beryl, after disinheriting Bernard for keeping faith with my poor Alice."

"Not exactly that," said Durham, hesitating. "I can't tell you the contents of the will, Miss Plantagenet, as--"

"I know," she snapped. "You needn't tell me that. I'll come to the Hall and hear it read. But, of course, I know it already."

"In that case there's no more to be said," replied the solicitor, suppressing a smile. Miss Berengaria saw it.

"Ha!" said she, sharply and pondering. "So Bernard's not disinherited after all."

"I never said so."

"You smiled. That's quite enough for me. 'A nod's as good as a wink to a blind horse.' Not that I'm a horse or blind. Thank G.o.d I have my eyesight and can read print with gla.s.ses. Well, keep your professional secrets, but tell me this: Will Beryl--the deuce take him--hunt for Bernard?"

"Not if he thinks he is drowned, as is probable," said Durham, rather surprised at hearing strong language from the lips of the lady.

"And if he thinks otherwise?"

"He will certainly hunt," replied the lawyer determinedly.

"Ha!" said Miss Berengaria, rubbing her nose. "So that's it, is it?"

"What do you mean, Miss Plantagenet?"

"That Bernard has not been disinherited. That old scamp--no, we must talk better of him--that the good old man who is dead repented and left the money to his rightful heir. What a joke!" Miss Berengaria chuckled.

"There! there!" she went on, catching Durham's eyes. "It's all right.

You have told me nothing. I can guess. Well, well, we must wait till the will is read. Then we shall see what is to be done to prove Bernard's innocence."

"That will be a hard task," said Durham, with a sigh; then added, with some little hesitation, "Miss Plantagenet, should Beryl make advances to you in the way of friendship receive them."

"Hum," said the lady. "I detest the fellow."

"But for Bernard's sake--"

"What plan have you in your head?" she asked sharply and peering into his troubled face.

"None. But I think that after the reading of the will--"

Miss Plantagenet chuckled. "After the reading--well?"

"Beryl may make advances to you."

"I will receive them. But if he thinks I will tell him where Bernard is to be found he is mistaken."

"You don't know where he is, or if he is alive," said Durham, astonished to find how quickly she fathomed his thoughts.

"True enough. But I will know before many days are over my head. I quite expect that Bernard will communicate with Alice, and of course she will tell me. As Beryl will find that the money is left to--"

"I did not say that," interrupted Durham, quickly, as the brougham stopped at the office door.

"To Bernard," went on Miss Berengaria, coolly, "he will try and learn if he is dead or alive. If dead he will--no, I can't say what he will do as I don't know if the money, failing Bernard, is left to him. But if he thinks Bernard is alive he will hunt him down so as to get the money."

Durham stepped out of the brougham rather afraid of the old dame. She was so clever that she seemed to read his most secret thoughts. He was glad the drive was at an end, and held out his hand to say good-bye. To his surprise and vexation Miss Berengaria stepped out at his heels. "I'm coming in to talk," she said, and marched up the steps. "I go down to-night to Hurseton, and I want to arrange what is to be done. Not a word, young man. I am Bernard's friend and so are you. If we don't combine it's all up with the poor fool." Durham followed the energetic lady with a feeling of helplessness, not knowing very well how to get rid of her. And he had particular reasons for not having her in the office. Conniston was coming to see him, and a meeting between him and his aunt might be productive of trouble. Not that Miss Plantagenet was his aunt, as she was only a distant relative. But she always styled herself so, and would answer to no other term. Durham regretted that he had accepted the lady's offer to be driven to his office. But it was too late by this time, for Miss Berengaria was in the room. And in the room also sat Lord Conniston, now out of uniform, and looking much excited.

"Ha!" said Miss Plantagenet, not recognizing the young man, "and who is this?" She turned to Durham, who shot past her, making a sign of silence to his friend.

"A client of mine. Will you leave us for a moment, Conniston?"

The name slipped out before he was aware, and he could have stamped with vexation to see how quickly Miss Berengaria grasped the situation. With a grim smile she looked at the astonished young man. "So you are d.i.c.k,"

she said looking at him through a double eyegla.s.s. "I haven't seen you since you made yourself sick in my garden. Bernard told Alice by letter that he met you. Where are you staying?"