THE IRISH-TWEED COAT
do?" said Lady Molly after a while. "Do you want to take the proofs over yourself to your boy's advocate? Is that it?"
"No, that would be no good," he replied simply. "I am known in Sicily. I should be watched, probably murdered, too, and my death would not benefit my boy."
"But what then?"
"My boy's uncle is chief officer of police at Cividale, on the Austro-Italian frontier. I know that I can rely on his devotion. Mrs. Tadworth, whose interest in my boy is almost equal to my own, and whose connection with me cannot possibly be known out there, will take the proofs of my boy's innocence to him. He will know what to do and how to reach my son's advocate safely, which no one else could guarantee to do."
"Well," said Lady Molly, "that being so, what is it that you want us to do in the matter?"
"I want a lady's help, miss—er—ma'am," he replied, “someone who is able, willing, strong, and, if possible, enthusiastic, to accompany Mrs. Tadworth—perhaps in the capacity of a maid—just to avert the usual suspicious glances thrown at a lady travelling alone. Also the question of foreign languages comes in. The gentleman I saw at Scotland Yard said that if you cared to go he would give you a fortnight's leave of absence."
"Yes, I’ll go!" rejoined Lady Molly, simply.
63
