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Page 22
"I'll tell you--when I know myself," answered Doreen, briefly, as she
left the room. The first result of the talks, however, was a
conversation, not with Queenie, but with her brother, Max. Doreen ran
after him next morning as he was on his way to the stables and made him
take a walk through the park with her instead of going for a ride.
"Max," she said, coaxingly, when they had gone out of sight of the
house, "you have been my confidant about this unhappy affair of
Dudley's--"
But her brother interrupted her, and tried to draw away the arm she had
taken.
"Look here, Doreen," said he earnestly, "you'd better not think any more
about him--much better not. I do really think the poor fellow's right in
what he hinted to my father, and that he's going off his head; or,
rather, I _know_ enough to be sure that he's not always perfectly
sane. Surely you must see that, in the circumstances, the less you think
about him the better."
"There I disagree with you altogether," said Doreen, firmly. "Max, papa
and mamma can't understand; they've forgotten how they felt when they
were first fond of each other. Queenie's not old enough, and she's too
good besides. Now, you do know, you do understand what it is to be head
over ears in love."
"Good heavens, Doreen, don't talk like that! You mustn't, you know!"
"Don't talk nonsense," interrupted his sister, sharply. "I tell you I
love Dudley, and ever so much more since I've found out he is in great
trouble; as any decent woman would do. Now I don't feel nearly so sure
as everybody else as to what his trouble is, but I want you to find out,
and to help me if you can."
"What, play detective--spy? Not me. It's ridiculous, unheard of. I've
done it once on your account, and I never felt such a sneak in my life.
I won't do it again, even for you, and that's flat."
And Max thrust his hands deep into his pockets.
"Won't you?" said Doreen, with a quiet smile. "Then I must, and I will."
Her brother started and stared at her.
"You! _You!_ What nonsense!"
"It's not nonsense, as you will find when you hear me get permission to
go up to town to stay with Aunt Betty."
Max grew sincerely alarmed.
"Look here, Doreen, be reasonable," said he. "You can do no good to
Dudley, believe me. He has got into some dreadful mess or other; but
it's nothing that you or I or any earthly creature can help him out of.
I confess I didn't tell you all I found out when I went up to town. I
couldn't. I can't now. But if you will persist, and if nothing else will
keep you quietly here, I--well, I promise to go up again. And I'll
warrant if I do I shall learn something which will convince even
_you_ that you must give up every thought of him."
"Will you promise," said Doreen, solemnly, "to tell me all you find
out?"
"No," replied Max, promptly, "I won't promise that. I can't. But I think
you can trust me to tell you as much as you ought to know."
With this promise Doreen was obliged to be content. And when, at
luncheon time, it was discovered that certain things were wanted from
town, and Max offered to go up for them, Doreen and her brother
exchanged a look from which she gathered that he would not forget her
errand.
Max had plenty of time, while he was being jolted from Datton to Cannon
Street, to decide on the best means of carrying out his promise. He
decided that a visit to Limehouse, to the neighborhood where the
property of the late Mr. Horne had been situated, would be better than
another visit to Dudley.
Plumtree Wharf was, he knew, the name of the most important part of the
property which had belonged to Dudley's father. Putting together the two
facts of the discovery of a ticket for Limehouse in Dudley's possession,
and of the disappearance of Edward Jacobs after a visit to that locality
on the same day, Max saw that there was something to be gleaned in that
neighborhood, if he should have the luck to light upon it.
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