Father Benwell rang the bell when Lord Loring had left him.
"Do the ladies drive out to-day at their usual hour?" he
inquired, when the servant appeared. The man answered in the
affirmative. The
carriage was ordered at three o'clock.
At half-past two Father Benwell slipped quietly into the
gallery.
He posted himself
midway between the library door and the grand
entrance; on the watch, not for the civilizing influences of Art,
but for the appearance of Lady Loring and Stella. He was still of
opinion that Stella's "frivolous" mother might be turned into a
source of
valuable information on the subject of her daughter's
earlier life. The first step toward attaining this object was to
discover Mrs. Eyrecourt's present address. Stella would certainly
know it--and Father Benwell felt a just confidence in his
capacity to make the young lady serviceable, in this respect, to
the pecuniary interests of the Church.
After an
interval of a quarter of an hour, Lady Loring and Stella
entered the
gallery by the library door. Father Benwell at once
advanced to pay his respects.
For some little time he discreetly refrained from making any
attempt to lead the conversation to the topic that he had in
view. He was too well acquainted with the insatiable interest of
women in looking at other women to force himself into notice. The
ladies made their remarks on the pretensions to beauty and to
taste in dress among the
throng of visitors--and Father Benwell
waited by them, and listened with the
resignation of a modest
young man. Patience, being a
virtue, is sometimes its own
reward.
Two gentlemen,
evidently interested in the pictures, approached
the
priest. He drew back, with his ready
politeness, to let them
see the picture before which he happened to be standing.
The
movement disturbed Stella. She turned sharply--noticed one of
the gentlemen, the taller of the two--became
deadly pale--and
instantly quitted the
gallery. Lady Loring, looking where Stella
had looked, frowned
angrily and followed Miss Eyrecourt into the
library. Wise Father Benwell let them go, and concentrated his
attention on the person who had been the object of this startling
recognition.
Unquestionably a gentleman--with light hair and complexion--with
a bright
benevolent face and keen
intelligent blue
eyes--apparently still in the prime of life. Such was Father
Benwell's first
impression of the stranger. He had
evidently seen
Miss Eyrecourt at the moment when she first noticed him; and he
too showed signs of serious
agitation. His face flushed deeply,
and his eyes expressed, not merely surprise, but
distress. He
turned to his friend. "This place is hot," he said; "let us get
out of it!"
"My dear Winterfield!" the friend remonstrated, "we haven't seen
half the pictures yet."
"Excuse me if I leave you," the other replied. "I am used to the
free air of the country. Let us meet again this evening. Come and
dine with me. The same address as usual--Derwent's Hotel."
With those words he
hurried out, making his way, without
ceremony, through the crowd in the picture
gallery.
Father Benwell returned to the library. It was quite
needless to
trouble himself further about Mrs. Eyrecourt or her address.
"Thanks to Lord Loring's picture
gallery," he thought, "I have
found the man!"
He took up his pen and made a little memorandum--"Winterfield.
Derwent's Hotel."
CHAPTER X.
FATHER BENWELL'S CORRESPONDENCE.
I.
_To Mr. Bitrake. Private and Confidential._
SIR--I understand that your
connection with the law does not
exclude your
occasional superintendence of confidential
inquiries, which are not of a nature to
injure your professional
position. The inclosed letter of
introduction will satisfy you
that I am
incapable of employing your experience in a manner
unbecoming to you, or to myself.
The
inquiry that I propose to you relates to a gentleman named
Winterfield. He is now staying in London, at Derwent's Hotel, and
is expected to remain there for a week from the present date. His
place of
residence is on the North Devonshire coast, and is well
known in that
locality by the name of Beaupark House.
The range of my proposed
inquiry dates back over the last four or
five years--certainly not more. My object is to
ascertain, as
positively as may be, whether, within this limit of time, events