"She thought it was only six
minutes to nine."
"She's right. But it seems the big clock in the hall outside our door is
fast," explained Father Beckett. "We heard it strike nine, so we hurried
down. The same thing happened with Mr. and Miss O'Farrell."
Another glance at me from the brilliant eyes! "Smart trick, eh?" they
telegraphed. I had to turn away, or I should have laughed. Surely never
before, on stage or in story--to say nothing of real life--was the
villain and blackmailer a mischievous, schoolboy imp, who made his
victims giggle at the very antics which caught them in his toils! But,
come to think of it, _I_ am a villain, and next door to a blackmailer!
Yet I always see myself (unless I stop to reflect on my sins) as a girl
like other girls, even better-natured and more agreeable and intelligent
than most. Perhaps, after all, villains don't run in types!
I soon learned that Father and Mother Beckett were rejoicing in the
acquisition of Jim's two friends as travelling companions. The
celebrated snapshots were among the cards O'Farrell had kept up his
sleeve. No doubt he'd waited to make sure of my attitude (though he
appeared to take it for granted) before deciding what use to make of his
best trumps. Seeing that I let slip my one and only chance of a
denunciation-scene, he flung away his also, with an air of dashing
chivalry which his sister and I alone were in a position to appreciate.
For me it had been a case of "speak now, or forever after hold your
peace.
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