S SHE walked away from the great advocate's chambers Jean Bower felt happier than she had felt since the terrible morning when Harry Garlett had been arrested in her presence on the charge of murder.
Though she felt certain that her forthcoming interview with Garlett would not bring the result Sir Harold evidently expected it to do, yet, deep in her heart, she was full of joy at the thought of seeing the man she loved. Her heart had hungered for him, and nothing but the knowledge that he shrank from seeing her in the shameful place where he was now strictly confined had prevented her making an effort to see him. It was an infinite comfort to feel that it was now her duty to do so.
She had deliberately sent no word of her approaching return to Bonnie Doon, and when she went out of Grendon station, where she had always been met by either her uncle or her aunt, even by Elsie if neither of them could come, there swept over her a curious feeling that henceforth she must live her life alone, if only because of her promise to the man on whose instructions she was now acting.
Quickly she walked away from the station, intent on seeing Mr. Toogood, so that her interview with Harry Garlett should be arranged as soon as possible.
But when she turned into the High Street of the busy country town she became aware that she had been recognized by certain of the people who had passed her, and by the time she had reached the lawyer's office some ten to twenty men and women were dogging her footsteps.
She began to feel like a hunted thing, and oh, the relief of finding herself in the hall of the house where she had come with her uncle on the day her lover had been arrested.
This time Jean was shown straight into the room where Mr. Toogood, the last time she was here, had remained closeted with her uncle for so long.
She went, as was her nature, straight to the point.
“I have made up my mind to ask for an order to see Mr. Garlett,” she said quietly. “And I should be grateful if you would tell him, Mr. Toogood, that it is because I have to speak to him on a matter of importance that I'm doing what I know he does not wish me to do.”
“I've always thought his attitude as to that quite unreasonable,” said the lawyer in a decided tone.
“How would you like Mrs. Toogood or your daughter to see you in prison?” asked Jean in a low voice.
“There's something in that—especially as I suppose you realize, Miss Bower, that you won't see Mr. Garlett alone?”
“I thought perhaps that as I want to see him on private business, I would be granted the privilege of seeing him alone.”
He shook his head.
“There is no country in the world, Miss Bower, where such privileges are extended to a prisoner under remand. I, as Mr. Garlett's legal adviser, have free private access to him. But you cannot expect the same privilege. Whatever you have to say to him will be said in the presence of two warders.
He saw that this was a great surprise to her, and she looked deeply troubled.
“I'll tell you what I'll do,” he exclaimed. “I'll put the case to the Governor. I suppose you've met him?”
“I remember that he was in the cricket pavilion at that big match last May, and I even had a talk with him. But I don't suppose he'll remember me.”
“You do yourself an injustice!” exclaimed the old lawyer gallantly. “I expect Colonel Brackbury remembers you very well indeed. In any case I will put the matter to him personally. I take it, Miss Bower,” he looked at her hard, “that you really require to see Mr. Garlett on business?”
“I would willingly tell you why I wish to see him, but I have given my word to tell no one.” She hesitated, and then, “I have been asked to put a certain question to him.”
“Kentworthy making the poor girl do his dirty work,” thought Mr. Toogood. Aloud he observed:
“Well, my dear young lady, I'll see what can be done. I know the Governor will stretch a point if he can. He is on very cordial terms with your uncle, and I seem to remember that he's a regular cricket maniac. Funny, isn't it, that such things should make any difference? But they do! I've found out that the lawyer who doesn't allow for the oddities of human nature makes a great mistake—I mean professionally. I hope you've left every one quite well at home, eh?—I mean at Bonnie Doon?”
“I've been in London,” she answered, “so I haven't seen them since the day before yesterday.”