He took up his pen as though the matter was decided and discussion at an end. But Dick did not move from his side. He was the stronger of the two and in a little while the old man's eyes wandered up to his face again. There was a look there which Margaret Pettifer had seen a week ago. Dick spoke and the voice he used was strange and formidable to his father.
"There must be no secrecy, father. I remember what you said: for uncharitable slander an English village is impossible to beat. Our secret would be known within a week and by attempting to keep it we invite suspicion. Nothing could be more damaging to Stella than secrecy. Consequently nothing could be more damaging to me. I don't deny that things are going to be a little difficult. But of this I am sure"--and his voice, though it still was quiet, rang deep with confidence--"our one chance is to hold our heads high. No secrecy, father! My hope is to make a life which has been very troubled know some comfort and a little happiness."
Mr. Hazlewood had no more to say. He must renounce his gods or hold his tongue. And renounce his gods--no, that he could not do. He heard in imagination the whole neighbourhood laughing--he saw it a sea of laughter overwhelming him. He shivered as he thought of it. He, Harold Hazlewood, the man emancipated from the fictions of society, caught like a silly struggling fish in the net of his own theories! No, that must never be. He flung himself at his work. He was revising the catalogue of his miniatures and in a minute he began to fumble and search about his over-loaded desk.
"Everybody is trying to thwart me this morning," he cried angrily.
"What's the matter, father?" asked Dick, laying down the _Times_. "Can I help?"
"I wrote a question to _Notes and Queries_ about the Marie Antoinette miniature which I bought at Lord Mirliton's sale and there was an answer in the last number, a very complete answer. But I can't find it. I can't find it anywhere"; and he tossed his papers about as though he were punishing them.
Dick helped in the search, but beyond a stray copy or two of _The Prison Walls must Cast no Shadow_, there was no publication to be found at all.
"Wait a bit, father," said Dick suddenly. "What is _Notes and Queries_ like? The only notes and queries I read are contained in a pink paper. They are very amusing but they do not deal with miniatures."