It was not more than half an hour's walk to Warrender, and she
set out in haste. She must get back before George Turnbull came
to open the shop.
When she got near enough to see Mr. Wardour's face, she read in
it at once that he was there from the same cause as herself; but
there was no good omen to be drawn from its expression: she read
there not only keen anxiety and bitter disappointment, but
lowering anger; nor was that absent which she felt to be distrust
of herself. The sole acknowledgment he made of her approach was
to withdraw his foot from the stirrup and stand waiting.
"You know something," he said, looking cold and hard in her face.
"About what?" returned Mary, recovering herself; she was careful,
for Letty's sake, to feel her way.
"I hope to goodness," returned Godfrey, almost fiercely, yet with
a dash of rude indifference, "_you_ are not concerned in
this--business!"--he was about to use a bad adjective, but
suppressed it.
"I _am_ concerned in it," said Mary, with perfect quietness.
"You knew what was going on?" cried Wardour. "You knew that
fellow there came prowling about Thornwick like a fox about a
hen-roost? By Heaven! if I had but suspected it--"
"No, Mr. Wardour," interrupted Mary, already catching a glimpse
of light, "I knew nothing of that."
"Then what do you mean by saying you are concerned in the
matter?"
Mary thought he was behaving so unlike himself that a shock might
be of service.
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