“A cross-firing of telegrams! I do not understand.”
“In this way. So soon as I knew Mrs. O’Grady’s address I telegraphed to her, in her daughter’s name, desiring her to address her reply to 1154 Gower Street, not to Charing Cross Hotel. About three-quarters of an hour afterwards I received in reply this telegram, which I am sure you will read with interest.
Here Loveday handed a telegram—one of several that lay on her writing-table—to Mr. Hawke.
He opened it and read aloud as follows:
“Am puzzled. Why such hurry? Wedding took place this morning. You will receive signal as agreed to-morrow. Better return to Tavistock Square for the night.”
“The wedding took place this morning,” repeated Mr. Hawke blankly. “My poor old friend! It will break his heart.”
“Now that the thing is done past recall we must hope he will make the best of it,” said Loveday. “In reply to this telegram,” she went on, “I sent another, asking as to the movements of the bride and bridegroom, and got in reply this:”
Here she read aloud as follows:
“They will be at Plymouth to-morrow night; at Charing Cross Hotel and next day, as agreed.”
“So, Mr. Hawke,” she added, “if you wish to see your old friend’s daughter and tell her what you think of the part she has played, all you will have to do will be to watch the arrival of the Plymouth trains.”
“Miss O’Grady has called to see a lady and gentleman,” said a maid at that moment entering.
“Miss O’Grady!” repeated Mr. Hawke in astonishment.
“Ah, yes, I telegraphed to her, just before you came in, to come here to meet a lady and gentlemen, and she, no doubt thinking that she would find here the newly-married pair, has, you see, lost no time in complying with my request. Show the lady in.”
“It’s all so intricate—so bewildering,” said Mr. Hawke, as he lay back in his chair. “I can scarcely get it all into my head.”
His bewilderment, however, was nothing compared with that of Miss O’Grady, when she entered the room and found herself face to face with her late guardian, instead of the radiant bride and bridegroom whom she had expected to meet.
She stood silent in the middle of the room, looking the picture of astonishment and distress.
Mr. Hawke also seemed a little at a loss for words, so Loveday took the initiative.
“Please sit down,” she said, placing a chair for the girl. “Mr. Hawke and I have sent to you in order to ask you a few questions. Before doing so, however, let me tell you that the whole of your conspiracy with Miss Monroe has been brought to light, and the best thing you can do, if you want your share in it treated leniently, will be to answer our questions as fully and truthfully as possible.”
The girl burst into tears. “It was all Miss Monroe’s fault from beginning to end,” she sobbed. “Mother didn’t want to do it—I didn’t want to—to go into a gentleman’s house and pretend to be what I was not. And we didn’t want her hundred pounds—”
Here sobs checked her speech.