Mr.
Fenshawe gave them sufficient silver for current expenses, and a draft
payable in Aden for the steamer and hotel charges, while he sent Mrs.
Haxton a note offering her five hundred pounds when she arrived in
London, and promising further assistance in the future if she shook
herself free of von Kerber.
Irene, who was acquainted with her grandfather's liberal intent,
watched Mrs. Haxton closely while she read that kindly message. Her
pallid face was unmoved. Its statuesque rigor gave no hint of the
thoughts that raged behind the mask.
"Tell Mr. Fenshawe that he has acted exactly as I expected," was her
listless reply, and, within five minutes, the small cavalcade started.
Mrs. Haxton elected to ride a Somali pony. She mounted unaided, forced
the rather unruly animal to canter to the head of the caravan, and thus
deliberately hid herself from further scrutiny.
"Poor thing!" murmured Irene with a sigh of relief, and hardly
conscious that she was addressing Stump. "I cannot help pitying her,
though I am glad she has gone.
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