Foul Play [165]
Yet now, at the name of Robert Penfold, Arthur turned pale, and fled like a guilty thing. This was a coincidence that confirmed her good opinion of Robert Penfold, and gave her ugly thoughts of Arthur. Still, she was one very slow to condemn a friend, and too generous and candid to condemn on suspicion; so she resolved as far as possible to suspend her unfavorable judgment of Arthur, until she should have asked him why this great emotion, and heard his reply.
Moreover, she was no female detective, but a pure creature bent on clearing innocence. The object of her life was, not to discover the faults of Arthur Wardlaw, or any other person, but to clear Robert Penfold of a crime. Yet Arthur's strange behavior was a great shock to her; for here, at the very outset, he had somehow made her feel she must hope for no assistance from him. She sighed at this check, and asked herself to whom she should apply first for aid. Robert had told her to see his counsel, his solicitor, his father, and Mr. Undercliff, an expert, and to sift the whole matter.
Not knowing exactly where to begin, she thought she would, after all, wait a day or two to give Arthur time to recover himself, and decide calmly whether he would co-operate with her or not.
In this trying interval, she set up a diary--for the first time in her life; for she was no egotist. And she noted down what we have just related, only in a very condensed form, and wrote at the margin: _Mysterious._
Arthur never came near her for two whole days. This looked grave. On the third day she said to General Rolleston:
"Papa, _you_ will help me in the good cause--will you not?"
He replied that he would do what he could, but feared that would be little.
"Will you take me down to Elmtrees, this morning?"
"With all my heart."
He took her down to Elmtrees. On the way she said: "Papa, you must let me get a word with Mr. Wardlaw alone."
"Oh, certainly. But, of course, you will not say a word to hurt his feelings."
"Oh, papa!"
"Excuse me. But, when a person of your age is absorbed with one idea, she sometimes forgets that other people have any feelings at all."
Helen kissed him meekly, and said that was too true; and she would be upon her guard.
To General Rolleston's surprise, his daughter no sooner saw old Wardlaw than she went--or seemed to go--into high spirits, and was infinitely agreeable.
But at last she got him all to herself, and then she turned suddenly grave, and said:
"Mr. Wardlaw, I want to ask you a question. It is something about Robert Penfold."
Wardlaw shook his head. "That is a painful subject, my dear. But what do you wish to know about that unhappy young man?"
"Can you tell me the name of the counsel who defended him at the trial?"
"No, indeed, I cannot."
"But perhaps you can tell me where I could learn that."
"His father is in our office still; no doubt he could tell you."
Now, for obvious reasons, Helen did not like to go to the office; so she asked faintly if there was nobody else who could tell her.
"I suppose the solicitor could."
"But I don't know who was the solicitor," said Helen, with a sigh.
"Hum!" said the merchant. "Try the bill-broker. I'll give you his address;" and he wrote it down for her.
Helen did not like to be too importunate, and she could not bear to let Wardlaw senior know she loved anybody better than his son; and yet some explanation was necessary. So she told him, as calmly as she could, that her father and herself were both well acquainted with Robert Penfold, and knew many things to his credit.
"I am glad to hear that," said Wardlaw; "and I can believe it. He bore an excellent character here, till, in an evil hour, a strong temptation came, and he fell."
"What! You think he was guilty?"
"I do. Arthur, I believe, has his doubts still. But he is naturally prejudiced in his friend's favor. And, besides, he was not at the trial; I was."
"Thank you, Mr. Wardlaw," said Helen, coldly; and within five minutes she was on her way home.
"Arthur prejudiced in Robert Penfold's
Moreover, she was no female detective, but a pure creature bent on clearing innocence. The object of her life was, not to discover the faults of Arthur Wardlaw, or any other person, but to clear Robert Penfold of a crime. Yet Arthur's strange behavior was a great shock to her; for here, at the very outset, he had somehow made her feel she must hope for no assistance from him. She sighed at this check, and asked herself to whom she should apply first for aid. Robert had told her to see his counsel, his solicitor, his father, and Mr. Undercliff, an expert, and to sift the whole matter.
Not knowing exactly where to begin, she thought she would, after all, wait a day or two to give Arthur time to recover himself, and decide calmly whether he would co-operate with her or not.
In this trying interval, she set up a diary--for the first time in her life; for she was no egotist. And she noted down what we have just related, only in a very condensed form, and wrote at the margin: _Mysterious._
Arthur never came near her for two whole days. This looked grave. On the third day she said to General Rolleston:
"Papa, _you_ will help me in the good cause--will you not?"
He replied that he would do what he could, but feared that would be little.
"Will you take me down to Elmtrees, this morning?"
"With all my heart."
He took her down to Elmtrees. On the way she said: "Papa, you must let me get a word with Mr. Wardlaw alone."
"Oh, certainly. But, of course, you will not say a word to hurt his feelings."
"Oh, papa!"
"Excuse me. But, when a person of your age is absorbed with one idea, she sometimes forgets that other people have any feelings at all."
Helen kissed him meekly, and said that was too true; and she would be upon her guard.
To General Rolleston's surprise, his daughter no sooner saw old Wardlaw than she went--or seemed to go--into high spirits, and was infinitely agreeable.
But at last she got him all to herself, and then she turned suddenly grave, and said:
"Mr. Wardlaw, I want to ask you a question. It is something about Robert Penfold."
Wardlaw shook his head. "That is a painful subject, my dear. But what do you wish to know about that unhappy young man?"
"Can you tell me the name of the counsel who defended him at the trial?"
"No, indeed, I cannot."
"But perhaps you can tell me where I could learn that."
"His father is in our office still; no doubt he could tell you."
Now, for obvious reasons, Helen did not like to go to the office; so she asked faintly if there was nobody else who could tell her.
"I suppose the solicitor could."
"But I don't know who was the solicitor," said Helen, with a sigh.
"Hum!" said the merchant. "Try the bill-broker. I'll give you his address;" and he wrote it down for her.
Helen did not like to be too importunate, and she could not bear to let Wardlaw senior know she loved anybody better than his son; and yet some explanation was necessary. So she told him, as calmly as she could, that her father and herself were both well acquainted with Robert Penfold, and knew many things to his credit.
"I am glad to hear that," said Wardlaw; "and I can believe it. He bore an excellent character here, till, in an evil hour, a strong temptation came, and he fell."
"What! You think he was guilty?"
"I do. Arthur, I believe, has his doubts still. But he is naturally prejudiced in his friend's favor. And, besides, he was not at the trial; I was."
"Thank you, Mr. Wardlaw," said Helen, coldly; and within five minutes she was on her way home.
"Arthur prejudiced in Robert Penfold's