"And what a painful thing that must have been about Clementina's brother," she went on; not in the least suspecting that she was opening up unknown secrets.
"Her brother?— what about him?" asked Sir James, turning on her sharply.
"The one that died about five years ago," Bessie answered, beginning a little to suspect that she had done wrong, and, perhaps, great wrong, in mentioning the subject at all.
"Tell me what you know, Bessie—Miss Bailey, I mean," Sir James said, authoritatively. "I never heard there was a brother at all; and how is it that you know anything about it? You must be frank with me. Now that you have gone so far, you must tell me all."
"I thought, of course, you knew everything about them," stammered Bessie, frightened; "else I would not have spoken; but old Hannah, the cook, told me something, this morning, that surprised me, only because I did not know that there were any secrets in the family at all."
"Well, what did she tell you?"
"That there was a brother, called Tom, who disappeared, or died, or did something like that, five years ago. He went out of the house one day, and they never saw him alive again. This was when they used to live at Oakingdean. He was engaged to the Miss Arthur who was found dead in her room."
"Ah!" cried Sir James, in a tone of surprise and vexation combined. "I must ask about this brother," he then said, in an undertone; and forthwith fell into a brown study, from which all Bessie's pleasant little arts could not draw him. For there was nothing so odious to the baronet as secrecy, excepting duplicity.
Mrs. Kinniside's suspicions were correct. Clementina had gone to the Joliffes', intent on an interview with Miss Arthur, to learn, if possible, what was the family secret bound up with her. She had known very little of the ladies when they all lived at Oakingdean; for she was but a school-girl then, at home for the holidays, no more—her brother, who had made the intimacy, being eight years older than she, and the Miss Arthurs, both elder and younger, older even than he. The one to whom he was engaged—the younger one, found murdered—was three years his senior. So that Clementina was of another circle altogether, and scarcely knew them by sight. As she was sure that her mother would suspect her at once of going to the Joliffes' as soon as she had discovered her absence, and that Adams would be dispatched to either forestall or prevent her, she hired the one village chaise at the one village inn, and so gained all that was necessary—time and the start. Arrived at the house, she did not send in her name; saying merely that a lady wished to speak to Miss Arthur; and, as the servant was new to the place and a stranger in the neighborhood, her name was not mentioned before Miss Arthur came down; else all that followed, of bad and good, would have been prevented.
A small, slight, nervous, and depressed-looking little woman came into the room where Clementina was standing, with her back to the light, by an almost instinctive precaution; a little, dark woman, dressed in deep mourning, with a broad, white frill round her throat, and a white crape cap, almost like a widow's, tied close round her face; a little woman, apparently in bad health, fragile, slight, shy, and hurried.
"You wished to see me?" she said, as she came in, folding her hands nervously, and glancing round the room with quick, uncertain eyes, that looked at everything but her visitor.
