Only a trifle! Among ether deficient sensibilities in the strange
nature of Iris, Sir Giles had observed an imperfect appreciation of the
dignity of his social position. Here was a new proof of it! The
temptation to inspire sentiments of alarm--not unmingled with
admiration--in the mind of his insensible goddaughter, by exhibiting
himself as a public character threatened by a conspiracy, was more than
the banker's vanity could resist. Before he left the room, he
instructed Dennis to tell Miss Henley what had happened, and to let her
judge for herself whether he had been needlessly alarmed by, what she
was pleased to call, "a mere trifle."
Dennis Howmore must have been more than mortal, if he could have
related his narrative of events without being influenced by his own
point of view. On the first occasion when he mentioned Arthur
Mountjoy's name, Iris showed a sudden interest in his strange story
which took him by surprise.
"You know Mr. Arthur?" he said.
"Knew him!" Iris repeated. "He was my playfellow when we were both
children. He is as dear to me as if he was my brother. Tell me at
once--is he really in danger?"
Dennis honestly repeated what he had already said, on that subject, to
his master. Miss Henley, entirely agreeing with him, was eager to warn
Arthur of his position. There was no telegraphic communication with the
village which was near his farm. She could only write to him, and she
did write to him, by that day's post--having reasons of her own for
anxiety, which forbade her to show her letter to Dennis. Well aware of
the devoted friendship which united Lord Harry and Arthur Mountjoy--and
bearing in mind the newspaper report of the Irish lord's rash
association with the Invincibles--her fears now identified the noble
vagabond as the writer of the anonymous letters, which had so seriously
excited her godfather's doubts of his own safety.
When Sir Giles returned, and took her with him to his house, he spoke
of his consultation with the Sergeant in terms which increased her
dread of what might happen in the future. She was a dull and silent
guest, during the interval that elapsed before it would be possible to
receive Arthur's reply. The day arrived--and the post brought no relief
to her anxieties. The next day passed without a letter. On the morning
of the fourth day, Sir Giles rose later than usual. His correspondence
was sent to him from the office, at breakfast-time. After opening one
of the letters, he dispatched a messenger in hot haste to the police.