a proof of poor Jack's BEING PERFECTLY SOBER, that he knew whom he was
trusting, and saw just what you were, at once. There! But I suppose you
must not talk to me any longer, but must make yourself agreeable to some
one else. But it was very nice of you to tell me all this. I wish you
knew my guardian. You'd like him. Do you ever go to England? Do come and
see us."
These confidences had not been observed by the others, and Miss Avondale
appeared to confine her attentions to Sir William, who seemed to be
equally absorbed, except that once he lifted his eyes toward Randolph,
as if in answer to some remark from her. It struck Randolph that he was
the subject of their conversation, and this did not tend to allay the
irritation of a mind already wounded by the contrast of HER lack of
sympathy for the dead man who had befriended and trusted her to the
simple faith of the girl beside him, who was still loyal to a mere
childish recollection.
After the ladies had rustled away, Sir William moved his seat beside
Randolph. His manner seemed to combine Mr. Dingwall's restraint with
a certain assumption of the man of the world, more notable for its
frankness than its tactfulness.
"Sad business this of my brother's, eh," he said, lighting a cigar;
"any way you take it, eh? You saw him last, eh?" The interrogating word,
however, seemed to be only an exclamation of habit, for he seldom waited
for an answer.
"I really don't know," said Randolph, "as I saw him only ONCE, and he
left me on the wharf. I know no more where he went to then than where he
came from before. Of course you must know all the rest, and how he came
to be drowned."
"Yes; it really did not matter much. The whole question was
identification and proof of death, you know. Beastly job, eh?"
"Was that his body YOU were helping to get ashore at the wharf one
Sunday?" asked Randolph bluntly, now fully recognizing the likeness that
had puzzled him in Sir William. "I didn't see any resemblance."
"Precious few would. I didn't--though it's true I hadn't seen him for
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