of our
transient life and Mrs. Fyne's natural capacity for responsibility, it
had never occurred to them that the simplest way out of the difficulty
was to do nothing and dismiss the matter as no concern of theirs. Which
in a strict worldly sense it certainly was not. But they spent, Fyne
told me, a most disturbed afternoon, considering the ways and means of
dealing with the danger hanging over the head of the girl out for a ride
(and no doubt enjoying herself) with an abominable scamp.

CHAPTER FOUR--THE GOVERNESS

And the best of it was that the danger was all over already. There was
no danger any more. The supposed nephew's appearance had a purpose. He
had come, full, full to trembling--with the bigness of his news. There
must have been rumours already as to the shaky position of the de
Barral's concerns; but only amongst those in the very inmost know. No
rumour or echo of rumour had reached the profane in the West-End--let
alone in the guileless marine suburb of Hove. The Fynes had no
suspicion; the governess, playing with cold, distinguished exclusiveness
the part of mother to the fabulously wealthy Miss de Barral, had no
suspicion; the masters of music, of drawing, of dancing to Miss de
Barral, had no idea; the minds of her medical man, of her dentist, of the
servants in the house, of the tradesmen proud of having the name of de
Barral on their books, were in a state of absolute serenity. Thus, that
fellow, who had unexpectedly received a most alarming straight tip from
somebody in the City arrived in Brighton, at about lunch-time, with
something very much in the nature of a deadly bomb in his possession. But
he knew better than to throw it on the public pavement. He ate his lunch
impenetrably, sitting opposite Flora de Barral, and then, on some excuse,
closeted himself with the woman whom little Fyne's charity described
(with a slight hesitation of speech however) as his "Aunt."

What they said to each other in private we can imagine. She came out of
her own sitting-room with red spots on her cheek-bones, which having
provoked a question from her "beloved" charge, were accounted for by a
curt "I have a headache coming on." But we may be certain that the talk
being over she must have said to that young blackguard: "You had better
take her out for a ride as usual." We have proof positive of this in
Fyne and Mrs. Fyne observing them mount at the door and pass under the
windows of their sitting