But I saw that the
past fortnight had aged them both by a year or more. They had been
stabbed in their honour, their trust, and their faith. It was a
secret terror that stalked at their side by day and lay stark at
their side by night. It was only when the ladies had left us that
Sir Anthony referred to the subject.
"I suppose you know that young Randall Holmes has bolted."
"So his mother informed me to-day."
He pricked his ears. "Does she know where he has gone to?"
"No," said I.
"What did I tell you?" said Sir Anthony.
I held up my glass of port to the light and looked through it.
"A lot of damfoolishness, my dear old friend," said I.
He grew angry. A man doesn't like to be coldly called a damfool at
his own table. He rose on his spurs, in his little red bantam way.
Was I too much of an idiot to see the connection? As soon as the
Carlisle business became known, this young scoundrel flies the
country. Couldn't I see an inch before my blind nose? Forbearing
to question this remarkable figure of speech, I asked him how so
confidential a matter could have become known.
"Everything gets known in this infernal little town," he retorted.
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