The Wings of Victory by Fred M. White

Sylvia had been back for two days at Lanton Place, waiting to hear something from Maxwell Frick. That she would hear from him sooner or later she knew perfectly well, especially when he discovered that she had not made her way to London. But that mercurial individual had his periods of forgetfulness, and it might be some days yet before any sign came from him. Therefore she set herself down to wait in patience till the time came when she could go out into the world and get her own living once more. Meanwhile there was consolation in the knowledge that her father was not at home. She knew perfectly well that so long as he had free and luxurious quarters at Baron's Court he was not likely to return to the gloom and desolation of Lanton Place.

That he was up to some mischief, or perhaps worse, Sylvia did not doubt for a moment. At any rate, her courage and the force of circumstance had prevented him from robbing John Bevill, and therefore that was something to the good. So Sylvia set herself down to wait and watch and look after her mother as best she could. Deep down in her heart was a warm affection for that unhappy woman, for Sylvia alone knew how she had suffered at the hands of a bad man and how her strange mental condition had been caused by all that trouble.