It seemed to her as though dinner was never going to end; but in the course of time it did so, and presently the ladies withdrew. As they were entering the drawing-room a servant told her that her son had been found more easily than was expected, and was now in his own room dressing.
“Tell him,” she said, “to stay there till I come, which I will do directly.”
She remained for a few minutes with her guests, and then, excusing herself quietly to Mrs. Humdrum, she stepped out and hastened to her son’s room. She told him that Professors Hanky and Panky were staying in the house, and that during dinner they had told her something he ought to know, but which there was no time to tell him until her guests were gone. “I had rather,” she said, “tell you about it before you see the Professors, for if you see them the whole thing will be reopened, and you are sure to let them see how much more there is in it than they suspect. I want everything hushed up for the moment; do not, therefore, join us. Have dinner sent to you in your father’s study. I will come to you about midnight.”
“But, my dear mother,” said George, “I have seen Panky already. I walked down with him a good long way this afternoon.”
Yram had not expected this, but she kept her countenance. “How did you know,” said she, “that he was Professor Panky? Did he tell you so?”
“Certainly he did. He showed me his permit, which was made out in favour of Professors Hanky and Panky, or either of them. He said Hanky had been unable to come with him, and that he was himself Professor Panky.”
Yram again smiled very sweetly. “Then, my dear boy,” she said, “I am all the more anxious that you should not see him now. See nobody but the servants and your brothers, and wait till I can enlighten you. I must not stay another moment; but tell me this much, have you seen any signs of poachers lately?”
“Yes; there were three last night.”
“In what part of the preserves?”
Her son described the place.
“You are sure they had been killing quails?”
“Yes, and eating them—two on one side of a fire they had lit, and one on the other; this last man had done all the plucking.”
“Good!”
She kissed him with more than even her usual tenderness, and returned to the drawing-room.
During the rest of the evening she was engaged in earnest conversation with Mrs. Humdrum, leaving her other guests to her daughters and to themselves. Mrs. Humdrum had been her closest friend for many years, and carried more weight than anyone else in Sunch’ston, except, perhaps, Yram herself. “Tell him everything,” she said to Yram at the close of their conversation; “we all dote upon him; trust him frankly, as you trusted your husband before you let him marry you. No lies, no reserve, no tears, and all will come right. As for me, command me,” and the good old lady rose to take her leave with as kind a look on her face as ever irradiated saint or angel. “I go early,” she added, “for the others will go when they see me do so, and the sooner you are alone the better.”
By half an hour before midnight her guests had gone. Hanky and Panky were given to understand that they must still be tired, and had better go to bed. So was the Mayor; so were her sons and daughters, except of course George, who was waiting for her with some anxiety, for he had seen that she had something serious to tell him. Then she went down into the study. Her son embraced her as she entered, and moved an easy chair for her, but she would not have it.
“No; I will have an upright one.” Then, sitting composedly down on the one her son placed for her, she said—
“And now to business. But let me first tell you that the Mayor was told, twenty years ago, all the more important part of what you will now hear. He does not yet know what has happened within the last few hours, but either you or I will tell him tomorrow.”
IX
Interview Between Yram and Her Son
“What did you think of Panky?”
“I could not make him out. If he had not been a Bridgeford Professor I might have liked him; but you know how we all of us distrust those people.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“About two hours lower down than the statues.”
“At what o’clock?”
“It might be between two and half-past.”
“I suppose he did not say that at that hour he was in bed at his hotel in Sunch’ston. Hardly! Tell me what passed between you.”
“He had his permit open before we were within speaking distance. I think he feared I should attack him without making sure whether he was a foreign devil or no. I have told you he said he was Professor Panky.”
“I suppose he had a dark complexion and black hair like the rest of us?”
“Dark complexion and hair purplish rather than black. I was surprised to see that his eyelashes were as light as my own, and his eyes were blue like mine—but you will have noticed this at dinner.”
“No, my dear, I did not, and I think I should have done so if it had been there to notice.”
“Oh, but it was so indeed.”
“Perhaps. Was there anything strange about his way of talking?”
“A little about his grammar, but these Bridgeford Professors have often risen from the ranks. His pronunciation was nearly like yours and mine.”
“Was his manner friendly?”
“Very; more so than I could understand at first. I had not, however, been with him long before I saw tears in his eyes, and when I asked him whether he was in distress, he said I reminded
