Edward Conroy was puzzled by it all--just as Mr. Charles Plackett had been. He seemed never to tire of questioning Ella on this point and on that, and made notes sometimes of her answers: but he was none the nearer seeing his way to any elucidation.
"Have you fully calculated what the result to yourself will be if it is discovered that fraud has been at work?" he said to her one day, when they had been speaking of what had happened at Heron Dyke during her absence.
"Home, money, and lands--all will go from you."
"I know it. But would you have had me act otherwise than as I have acted?--would you have had me keep the doubt to myself?"
"I think--I think, Edward, you are as anxious to discover the truth as I am."
"Although it be against your own interest. After all, it may be that you will have a penniless wife, compared with the rich one you expected."
"So much the better. She will owe all the more to me, and the world cannot then say that I have married her for her fortune."
"As if you cared for anything the world might choose to say!"--and to this remark Mr. Conroy slightly laughed in answer.
He had not been more than a day or two at Heron Dyke, when Miss Winter put into his hands the malachite and gold sleeve-link which Betsy Tucker had sent her by Mrs. Keen. Betsy was recovering slowly from her illness; all danger was over.
"I should like to see the young woman, and question her," observed he, turning the link about in his hand, as he examined it critically.
"There will be no difficulty," said Ella. "Betsy has been out for one airing, and she can come here. Why do you look at the trinket so attentively? Have you ever seen it before?"
"Never. But it is one of rather remarkable workmanship."
A fly brought Betsy Tucker to the Hall. There, in the presence of Mr. Conroy, she was requested to point out the place, as nearly as she could recollect it, where she had picked up the link. It was within a few yards of the spot where Hubert Stone was found. The girl had nothing more to tell, and sobbed out her contrition for her fault. Miss Winter was everything that was kind; but Mr. Conroy, speaking sternly, warned her not to disclose a word to anyone about the affair or there was no telling what the consequences to herself might be. The girl, with many tears, promised faithfully to keep the secret, and seemed only too glad to be let off so easily.