Sir Tancred was silent; he was staring at nothing with sombre eyes.
Lord Crosland looked at him compassionately; presently he said, "It explains your face--the change in it. I was wondering at it. I couldn't understand it."
"What change? What's the matter with my face?" said Sir Tancred indifferently.
"Well, you used to be a cheerful-looking beggar, don't you know. Now you look like what do you call him--who fell from Heaven--Lucifer, son of the Morning. I read about him at Vane's, mugging up poetry for that exam."
"You'll hardly believe it," said Sir Tancred very seriously, "but I took to reading books myself at Beauleigh, when I got all right--reading books and mooning about. I had no energy. I went and saw Vane's solicitor of course; but he could tell me nothing, or wouldn't tell me. Said his client had called on him, and told him to inform my stepmother of Pamela's death, and had not told him where she died, or where he was now living. I fancied he was keeping something back; but I had no energy, and I didn't drag it out of him. I went to Stanley House; it was to be let. No one could tell me where the Vanes had gone. I stayed at Beauleigh--mooning about. I wouldn't go to Oxford; and I wouldn't travel. I mooned about. Six months ago I came across Vicary at a meet--you remember Vicary at Vane's?--he told me that Vane had died in Jersey. I went to Jersey, and found Vane's grave. Next to it was my wife's."
Again Sir Tancred fell silent in a gloomy musing.
"The oddest thing happened. It doesn't sound exactly credible; and you won't understand it. I don't. But as I stood by the grave, I suddenly felt that there was something for me to do, something very important that had to be done. It was odd, very odd. I went back to my hotel quite harassed, puzzling and racking my brains. Then an idea struck me; and I had a hunt through the registers. I found that two days before she died a boy was born, Hildebrand Anne Beauleigh--the old Beauleigh names. She knew that I should like him to be called by them. From the registers I learnt where they had been living. I rushed off to the house, and found it empty and to let--always these shut-up houses. I made inquiries and inquiries, from the house agents and the tradespeople. I could learn nothing. They had lived very quietly. But there was a child; people had seen him wheeled about in a perambulator. He had disappeared. I suspected my stepmother at once; and I hurried back to Beauleigh. It had bucked me up, don't you know, to think that I had a child. I had it out with my stepmother; and what do you think she told me?"