'
'Trust me this time, father. I shall never ask you for any more.'
The old man went slowly to his desk, wrote out a cheque, and handed it to
his daughter. It was for thirty thousand pounds.
CHAPTER XXXV.
Edith Longworth, with that precious bit of paper in her pocket, once more
got into her hansom and drove to Wentworth's office. Again she took the
only easy-chair in the room. Her face was very serious, and Wentworth,
the moment he saw it, said to himself. 'She has failed.'
'Have you telegraphed to Mr. Kenyon?' she asked.
'Yes.'
'Are you sure you made it clear to him what was wanted? Cablegrams are
apt to be rather brief.'
'I told him to keep in communication with us. Here is a copy of the
cablegram.'
Miss Longworth read it approvingly, but said:
'You have not put in the word "answer."'
'No; but I put it in the despatch I sent. I remember that now.'
'Have you had a reply yet?'
'Oh no; you see, it takes a long time to get there, because there are so
many changes from the end of the cable to the office where Kenyon is. And
then, again, you see, they may have to look for him. He may not be
expecting a message; in fact, he is sure not to be expecting any. From
his own cablegram to me, it is quite evident he has given up all hope.'
'Show me that cablegram, please.'
Wentworth hesitated.
'It is hardly couched in language you will enjoy reading,' he said.
'That doesn't matter. Show it to me.
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