Ричард Марш
The Twickenham Peerage

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CHAPTER XII
MRS. MERRETT IS OVER-PERSUADED

I sat down with the rolling-pin in my hand. He made me feel uneasy. Though what he said was beyond me altogether. And as he stood in front of the grate he kept saying things which made me uneasier still.

'Mrs. Merrett, I'm not a romantic character. I'm without feeling; dead to emotion. It's the consequence of the professional life I've led; the profession first, the rest nowhere. You may beat against this heart for years, and yet not find entrance.' He banged his hand against his side. I should have thought it hurt him. 'I'm a man who only believes what he sees-and only about a quarter of that. Therefore, when I tell you that I am possessed by an overwhelming, a predominating conviction that something has happened to your husband, you will know that my conviction is not a thing to be laughed at.'

'But what can have happened to him?'

'As I was going home yesterday afternoon, I slipped on a piece of orange peel; that means danger. In our street I saw three black cats; that means mourning for a friend. I found myself putting my walking-stick upside down into the stand; that means trouble. When I got upstairs, death stared me in the face out of my sitting-room fire. As I was smoking a pipe, your husband's portrait fell from its place on the wall, and chipped a piece off one of the corners; you know what that means as well as I do. I'll say nothing about the horrid dreams which haunted me all through the night because I'm not a superstitious man, and they may have had something to do with the dressed crab I had for supper. But I will say this, that I woke up this morning profoundly persuaded that there is something wrong. And that persuasion is with me now.'

'But what can be wrong?'

He came and leaned against the edge of the table.

'Mind the flour,' I said.

He waved his hand.

'What does it matter about minding the flour when we've got such facts as those to face? Mrs. Merrett, we have to put two and two together. I unhesitatingly say that the result of our doing that is to point the finger of suspicion towards the man who masqueraded as John Smith.' He rapped his knuckles so hard against the board that a piece of suet which I had left there stuck to them. 'If you don't go to Mr. John Smith, alias the Hon. Douglas Howarth, and ask him, as I asked him, what he's done with Mr. Babbacombe, you'll be neglecting your duty as a wife.'

'Mr. FitzHoward!'

'You will, Mrs. Merrett, you will! If you love your husband-'

'"If!"'

'I say, if you love your husband you will insist on getting from him the answer which he refused to give me. There's a mystery, Mrs. Merrett-a mystery; and that double-named gentleman is at the back of it. My varied experience in all branches of the profession has given me the eyes of a hawk, and yesterday I saw right through him.'

'But, Mr. FitzHoward-'

'But me no buts. If you won't go I will; and I'll try to conceal the fact that I've come because you wouldn't. There are wives like that, but I didn't think that you were one.'

I stood up, and I hit the table with the rolling-pin. I was not going to stand talk like that from him, or from anyone.'

'Mr. FitzHoward, I know my James, and he won't thank you for interfering with his private affairs, nor me either. If you come to mysteries, why, his whole life's a mystery: but he'll be the first to tell you not to trouble yourself about him, but to look after mysteries of your own.'

'What if he's dead?'

'Mr. FitzHoward! how can you say such things? What makes you think it?'

'I don't want to agitate you; I don't want to cause alarm. But I have my intuitions-here.' He tapped his shirt front. 'What surprises me is that you haven't got intuitions, too.'

'What makes you-have them?'

'My trained intelligence. If all's well there'll be no harm done by your running round to Brook Street, and putting that question to the Hon. Douglas Howarth. If he's able to clear himself-which, mind, I hope! – he'll have my congratulations, and you too. No one can blame the anxiety of a loving woman's heart. And I can only say that if I were in your position, knowing what you know, and what I know, I shouldn't be able to lay my head upon my pillow this night, if I was weighed down by the consciousness that I hadn't moved a finger to find out whether my husband was alive or dead. I shouldn't dare to go to sleep.'

Oh, dear, how that man did work upon my feelings! How he did upset me! He almost drove me to hysterics. Goodness knows that often and often I've laid awake all night, wondering if James was dead, and, if so, where he was buried, sopping my pillow with my tears, and making myself quite ill. But I never had been talked to like that man talked to me that afternoon. I was half beside myself through not knowing what I ought to do. I knew very well that I should get into trouble with James if it turned out that he was only carrying on as usual; while if what Mr. FitzHoward kept talking about was true, or anything like it, I should never forgive myself for leaving the least thing undone that I could do.

The end of it was that I was over-persuaded. He got me into such a state that I didn't dare to hold out any longer; and though I was trembling in my shoes to think I had the courage, I decided to go with him to see that Mr. Howarth. I gave the children their dinner-the roly-poly had to be put off to supper-time-I never had a chance to cook it. Mr. FitzHoward went away to have his dinner. I washed and tidied the children-they are pictures when they're tidy! – and took them round to Mrs. Ordish, to stop with her till I came back. She hasn't any of her own, and very glad she was to have them-as who wouldn't be? Then, when Mr. FitzHoward came back I was ready to start.

He would have a hansom cab. Simply, I believe, that he could keep on talking to me, and working of me up. Then, as we were getting near the house, he said:

'You understand? You're to go in, and I'm to wait outside. Then when I think you've had time to put your question, and receive a satisfactory explanation, if you don't appear I'll come in too. If between us we don't make him sit up I'll be surprised. I'll be even with him for setting that copper on me yesterday.'

I really do believe that that was at the bottom of it all; his wanting to be even, as he called it, with the gentleman for calling to the policeman. And at the last moment, if I'd dared, I'd have gone straight back then and there, and never have gone into the house at all. But that was more than I had courage for, having come all that way, with Mr. FitzHoward, and him saying all those things.

So I left him at the corner, and went to the number he'd told me of. It wasn't a large house, quite the other way; I shouldn't have thought that an Earl's son would have lived in such a small one. The door was opened by a gentleman whom I at first took to be Mr. Howarth himself; but then supposed to be a servant-though he wasn't dressed like one, being just in evening clothes. He looked at me so that I wished right straight away that I'd never come.

'Mr. Howarth?' I just managed to get out.

'Mr. Howarth? Not at home. What name?'

I was stammering that it didn't matter, and was going to take myself away, and glad to get the chance of doing it, when a young lady came out of the side room into the passage. She was quite the lady, though dressed as plain as plain could be, with not a scrap of jewellery about her. When she saw me standing on the step, she said to the gentleman who had opened the door:

'Bartlett, who is this?'

'Wants to see Mr. Howarth, my lady.'

She came to the door and looked at me again.

'On what subject do you wish to see Mr. Howarth? I am his sister.'

The servant's calling her 'my lady' had sent me all of a twitter. So that when she spoke to me I felt that silly I could have bitten myself.

'If you please, miss, I want to speak to him.'

I could have scratched myself for calling her miss, she being my lady. But she didn't seem to mind. She had another look at me, and then she said:

'Come in. Perhaps you can tell me on what subject you wish to speak to my brother.' I followed her into the room she had just come out of. There was another lady in it; but, except that somehow I knew that she was older than the other, I didn't take any notice of what she was like. 'Now, is there any message which you can give me and which I can deliver to my brother?'

She looked at me so straight, and with such an odd something in her eyes, that I grew more confused than ever.

'If you please, miss, I mean my lady, I only wanted to ask him what he's done with my husband.'

'You only wanted to ask him what?'

'What he's done with my husband.'

I had to put my handkerchief up to my eyes. But it was as much rage as anything; through my feeling such a fool, and, no doubt, looking one. The young lady glanced at the other. I knew what she was thinking, and small blame to her; I could have boxed Mr. FitzHoward's ears for getting me into such a mess.

'I don't understand you. Who are you? And what has my brother to do with your husband?'

'If you please, miss, I mean my lady, my name's Merrett; but my husband's known as Mr. Montagu Babbacombe. He's the famous Mr. Montagu Babbacombe.'

I've a sort of suspicion that the young lady smiled.

'The famous Mr. Montagu Babbacombe? I am afraid that his fame has not reached me. And what has my brother to do with Mr. Babbacombe?'

'That's what I want to know.'

'Where is your husband?'

'I want to know that too.'

'Do you mean that he's left home?'

'I haven't seen or heard of him since he went out last Sunday week to see your brother.'

'To see my brother? How do you know that he went to see my brother?'

'He had an interview at the York Hotel with your brother, who called himself Mr. John Smith.'

'My brother called himself Mr. John Smith?'

'Yes, my lady; and yesterday when Mr. FitzHoward saw him in Piccadilly-'

'Who's Mr. FitzHoward?'

'My husband's business manager. He went up to him and asked him what he'd been doing with my husband. And he was so struck all of a heap, and went on in such a way, that Mr. FitzHoward felt sure that he'd been doing something he didn't ought to. Then he found out that his name wasn't Smith at all, but Howarth; so he brought me here to ask what he's been doing to my James.'

The young lady, turning to the older one, made a queer movement with her hands.

'I don't understand her in the very faintest atom; do you? Do you think she's-quite right in her mind?'

'Hush!' said the other.

She came to me. And I saw that she wasn't so very old after all. While for loveliness I had never seen anything like her. Compared to her I was like a doll. She was beautifully dressed, and she had a way about her I can't describe. And such a voice it did you good to hear her speak.

'Sit down, my dear,' she said. I sat down, and she sat down beside me. 'Now tell me all about it from the beginning. Where do you live?'

'At 32 Little Olive Street, Vauxhall Bridge Road.'

'And you say that your name is Merrett, and your husband is known as Mr. Montagu Babbacombe. What is he?'

'Anything and everything.'

'That's rather vague.'

'The last thing he did was a thirty days' sleep at the Royal Aquarium.'

'A thirty days' sleep. Now I think I begin to understand. I remember reading something about it in the papers. So that was your husband?'

'That was my James. And that was where Mr. Smith-or Mr. Howarth, as it seems that he is-first saw him.'

'Indeed! And when did he first see him? On what day?'

'Let me see. It was the Thursday before he went away-that was a fortnight last Thursday.'

'A fortnight last Thursday?'

The young lady burst out with something I didn't understand.

'How very odd! That was the day on which he first saw Twickenham.'

The other lady was silent for, I should think, quite a minute. And when she did speak her voice seemed changed.

'Yes; it is odd. At that time your husband was giving an exhibition as-what?'

'As a sleeping man.'

'As a sleeping man? What a strange thing to do! What kind of man is your husband? Is he old?'

'He's older than I am.'

'Older than you are? About forty?'

'About that, I should think.'

'Have you known him all your life?'

'I've been married six years, and I only knew him a week before we were married.'

'Only a week! What a courageous thing to do! Do you know his relatives?'

'I don't think he has any. I never heard him speak of them. The only thing I know about him is that he's a gentleman.'

'What do you understand by a gentleman?'

'I can't explain. But I know a gentleman when I see him, and I'm sure my James is one.'

She seemed to hesitate before she put her next question.

'When he went out that Sunday morning was he well?'

'He was never better.'

'Did he suffer from a weak heart?'

'He's never had an hour's illness during all the time I've known him.'

Somehow I don't think that was just the answer she expected. She kind of drew her breath, as if she was relieved. The young lady interrupted.

'I don't know, Edith, what it is you're driving at, nor do I as yet at all understand how, or why, Mrs. Merrett associates Douglas with her husband.'

'Nor I. But here comes Douglas to answer for himself.'

As she said it the room door opened, and in came a gentleman. He was very tall, and his brown hair, which was curly, was just turning grey; as, likewise, was his big moustache, which turned up at the ends. His good looks were not what I had expected: and his sweet smile reminded me of the lady who had been asking me questions. Somehow he looked worried-downright ill, indeed; and he had a queer way of starting at nothing, and looking about him, as if he saw and heard something which you didn't, which would soon have got upon my nerves.

'Douglas,' said the young lady, 'here is some one who wishes to ask you a question.'

She spoke as if she was sure he'd find the question an amusing one. But as soon as I set eyes upon him I knew better. Although he smiled at the two ladies as he came in, all the while he was glancing at me in a fidgety sort of way as if he resented my intruding.

'Indeed!' he said. 'And who may this lady be?'

'You had better ask her. She will be able to tell you better than I can. I am so stupid that I'm quite unable to understand.'

When he came in, the lady, who had been asking me questions, had moved a little to one side. I stood up and faced him. Although he was so big and tall, and quite the great gentleman, somehow I was not half so afraid as I had expected to be. I gave him look for look.

'You wish to see me?'

'Yes, sir.'

'In private?'

'That, sir, is for you to say.' The young lady put in a word.

'I don't think, Douglas, that any privacy is necessary. Mrs. Merrett merely wishes to ask you a plain and simple question.'

He repeated my name.

'Merrett? Merrett? Are you Mrs. Merrett?'

'I am, sir. And I'm the wife of Mr. Montagu Babbacombe.'

Just what Mr. FitzHoward had spoken of happened again. He sort of reeled; and a look came on to his face which was shocking. I never saw a man so changed all of a sudden. I thought he was going to have a fit. The two ladies were every bit as much surprised as I was. The younger one went hurrying to him.

'Douglas, what ever is the matter?' He seemed to have a difficulty in speaking, as though his breath was short.

'I-I've not felt very well to-day; that's all.'

'It's the first time you've spoken of it. Shall I send for the doctor?'

'No. It's nothing. It's only a passing touch.' He tried to brace himself up: but though he tried hard he still seemed limp. 'If you will come to my room, Mrs. – what did you say your name was?'

'Merrett, sir.'

'If you will come into my room, Mrs. Merrett, I will speak to you there.'

'Douglas,' said the elder of the ladies, just as he had his hand upon the handle of the door, 'who is Mr. Montagu Babbacombe?'

'Babbacombe?' He tried to meet her eyes: but couldn't. 'Oh, he's a wretched mountebank.'

It fired my blood to hear him speak of my James like that.

'Begging your pardon, sir, but he's nothing of the kind. And if that's the way you're going to speak of my husband I'd rather say what I have to say before the ladies.'

'I dare say you would; but you won't. You will come into my own room, Mrs. Merrett.'

'Excuse me, sir, but I will not. You can tell me just as well here as anywhere what it is you've done with my husband.'

CHAPTER XIII
WHO'S THAT CALLING?

I do believe, if we'd been alone, he would have struck me. As it was, I'm sure he would have liked to. That I should dare to speak to him like that-him so big, and me so small, and him a great gentleman, and me just nothing and nobody-it did put his back up. He glared as if he would have liked to eat me. And yet, all the while, I knew that somewhere inside of him he was afraid of me. It mayn't sound sense, I own; but I know what I mean if I can't just say it.

The elder lady came and put her hand upon his arm.

'Douglas, why do you look at her like that? She's only a child.'

He spoke, as it might be, between his gritted teeth.

'Since Mrs. Merrett won't come to my room, I'm afraid I must ask you two to leave this; to enable me to speak a few plain truths to her in private.'

'She's only anxious for her husband. Why should you be angry with her on that account? She says that you first saw him on the day on which you first saw Twickenham.'

He shot round at her with quite as savage a look as he had given me.

'Who told you that?'

'She was telling us just before you came.'

'It strikes me she's tarred with the same brush as her scoundrelly husband.'

It did make me wild to hear him! It always does when people say things against James. And especially him!

'How dare you stand there and speak of him like that before my face-when, for all I know, his blood's upon your hands!'

I didn't mean it; not at the time I didn't. I just said it because I was in a rage. But if I had meant it ever so much it couldn't have affected him more. He shrank back from me as if I were some dreadful thing; his jaw dropped open; he stared as if his eyes would start out of his head. It was horrid to see. The young lady came stalking up to me. She spoke that cold and haughty as if I was the dirt under her feet; which perhaps she thought I was.

'Aren't you forgetting yourself, my good woman, in using such language? Or are you, as I thought at first, a little mad?' Having given me one, she gave him one too. 'And pray, Douglas, why should you behave in such an extraordinary fashion merely because this person talks as if she were insane?'

He did not reply at once. Instead, he turned his back and walked away from us across the room. When I saw his face again he looked more like he ought to. He stood before the fireplace, and, in his turn, set up to be haughty. But it didn't sit so well on him as it did upon his sister. I should say that it came to her by nature-while he had to practise how to do it.

'I am placed in a difficult position.'

'I don't see it. Why don't you answer her question?'

'Because I have no answer to give her.'

'You mean that you don't know what has become of her husband?'

'Absolutely nothing.'

The young lady turned to me.

'You hear what my brother says.'

'I hear; but you must excuse my saying, miss, I mean my lady, that I don't believe him.'

'Why should you doubt my brother's word?'

'Don't you-after what you've just now seen?'

She bit her lip.

'Impertinent creature!' she said, as she turned away. But I knew she doubted too.

I put a question on my own.

'Mr. Howarth, sir, why did you give Mr. FitzHoward a five-pound note to make you known to my husband under a false name?'

'Pure curiosity. Your husband gave a rather remarkable exhibition. As the person you allude to seemed to think that I ought to have some sort of a name I gave the first which occurred to me. By the way, your husband himself seems to have had what you call a false name.'

'Yes, sir, but that's different; as you know very well. Although he is a gentleman, he's not in the position you are. And what was it you wanted to say to him that Sunday morning at the York Hotel?'

He put his shoulders up, and smiled as if, at least, my question did amuse him.

'All sorts of things, my dear Mrs. Merrett. I'm afraid I'm not able, at this distance of time, to furnish you with a particular catalogue. I found your husband a somewhat interesting person; and as interesting persons are rare we sharpened our wits together on a variety of topics. I did not suppose that I should have to pay so severe a penalty for having found his society amusing. Now that matters appear to stand on a somewhat more agreeable footing, let me ask you a question or two in my turn. Do I understand you to say that your husband has-what shall I call it-disappeared?'

'I have not seen him since that Sunday morning; as you know very well.'

'As I know? Not only do I not know anything of the kind, but I am curious to know on what grounds you credit me with the possession of such knowledge. It is not as though I were the last person who spoke to him. A waiter came into his room as I was going out of it. I understood that he was going to have his dinner. Didn't he have his dinner? The landlord will be able to tell you. Probably you will be able to find a dozen persons who saw and spoke to him after I had gone. So little did I know of your husband, or-you will excuse my saying so-care to know, that I was not aware that his name was Merrett; that he had a wife; or, indeed, that he had any home save the place in which he certainly seemed to me to be entirely at home.'

When he had finished I had my say. Somehow, the more affable he grew, the surer I knew that he was false.

'Mr. Howarth, sir, you can make things seem very plain and simple, and quite all right, now that you've had time to think them over. But how was it that when you were spoken to unexpectedly yesterday you almost tumbled down in the street when you were asked what you had done with my husband?'

'I have many worries of my own, Mrs. Merrett. Mr. FitzHoward took me unawares, as you admit. My thoughts were far away, and, as the result of his sudden intervention, I found that my nerves were more unstrung even than I had supposed. I don't know what is the matter with me lately. My health must have run down. I seem unhinged by the slightest thing.'

'You must be in a very bad state, sir, when you almost tumble down in the street because you're asked a simple question.'

'As you say, I suppose I must be.'

'You must. There's such a thing as a bad conscience, as well as bad health. And I take leave to tell you that I'm quite sure there's more behind your words than you want me to think.'

He laughed-though not so heartily as I dare say he would have wished.

'Mrs. Merrett, you're incorrigible. Is it because you are so young that you're so difficult to convince? My dear Edith,' he turned to the elder lady-somehow I'd felt all along that he was quite as anxious to convince her as me, and that half what he was saying was meant for her address-'I will tell you the whole true tale of the beginning and the end of my connection with the individual who Mrs. Merrett now informs us is her husband. I saw him, for the first time, under very extraordinary circumstances.'

'You saw Twickenham for the first time under very extraordinary circumstances.'

I did not know what she meant, but his face went black again.

'What do you mean?'

'I was merely commenting on the coincidence.'

'Coincidence!' I could see that angry words rose to his lips, but he choked them back again. He managed, with difficulty, to smile. 'My dear Edith, I'm afraid you allow yourself to sympathise so warmly with Mrs. Merrett's misfortune, that you confuse the issues. What has my seeing the one man to do with my seeing the other?'

'I didn't say it had anything.'

'Then why drag it in?'

'Hadn't you better go on with your story?'

She smiled; and there was something about her smile which seemed to sting him as if she had cut him across the face with a whip. I believe he trembled; though whether it was with rage or not I could not say. When he spoke again all his affability had vanished. His voice was dry and hard.

'We will postpone the continuation of my story, as you call it, to a further occasion. Are there any other questions, Mrs. Merrett, which you would like to ask me? Pray ask them. Whether they do or do not impugn my veracity is not of the slightest consequence. I am in the box. Nor does it matter that I have a rather pressing engagement. That I should suffer for your-may I say, erratic husband? Well, at any rate, his erratic proceeding is, I presume, only poetic justice. Though I don't myself see where the justice quite comes in.'

I could be just as proud as him, in my way; and I let him see it. I tried to make myself as stiff as he was; though I don't suppose I came within a mile of it.

'Thank you, Mr. Howarth, sir, but I've got no more questions just now which I want to put to you. You know what you do know, and perhaps one of these days I'll know it. Until then I can only say that I'm sorry to have troubled you.'

With that I opened the door and went out into the passage, none of them moving from where they were, or speaking a word as I went. When I got into the passage there came a pull at the front door bell, and a rat-tat-tat at the knocker.

'That's Mr. FitzHoward,' I said to myself.

As I felt convinced of it I made no bones about opening the front door, which I did do, and sure enough it was he. There he was, standing on the door-step. When he saw it was me that had opened the door he seemed surprised.

'Hello! Is that you?' he said. 'Well, I've come at last.'

'So I perceive-and as I'm just going, we can go together.'

'Has he answered that question?'

I felt a kind of want on me to keep on being haughty. If I hadn't, I believe I should have broken down. So I put my head up in the air, and I replied:

'You'll excuse me, Mr. FitzHoward, if I remark that whether he has or has not is my affair and not yours.'

He looked at me sharply.

'Oh, that's the time of day, is it? Then if that's the case I've half a mind to go in and put the question on my own account. I'll soon size him up.'

'As to that, you are of course quite at liberty to do exactly what you please; only, if that is what you are going to do I'll wish you good-day.'

I went off down the street. He let me go a little way, and then came hurrying after me.

'What's become of Babbacombe?'

'If you don't mind my saying so, Mr. FitzHoward I don't want to talk to you about nothing whatever till I'm in my own home.'

'Then, if that's how you feel, the sooner we get to your own home the better.'

And he called another hansom cab. I did think of the expense, two hansom cabs in one day, but in the state of mind in which I was I didn't feel as if I could get into an omnibus, and sit straight up in it, with the people staring at me all the way. It only wanted a very little to make me behave like a silly. I don't believe I spoke a dozen words the whole way. Mr. FitzHoward kept trying to make me. He was the most persevering man I ever met. But I wouldn't. So, as soon as we got in he said sarcastically:

'Well, we have had a nice little talk! You're about the most talkative woman I've had the pleasure of knowing. You can be silent in one language, at any rate.'

'Mr. FitzHoward, how much do I owe you for that hansom cab?'

'Owe me? Nothing. The cab was mine.'

'You paid going, and I'll pay coming back. You gave the cabman eighteenpence-because I saw you. There's the money. I'll be beholden to no man except my husband.'

I put a shilling and a sixpence on the table. He looked at the coins, and then he looked at me. Then he took them up.

'Oh, all right. I'm willing. Money's always welcome. It doesn't look as if I was going to make much out of your husband, so I don't see why I should lose on you. Besides, I can buy something with it for those two little kids of yours. I don't suppose you can prevent my doing that. Now, Mrs. Merrett, let's understand each other, you and I. What did Mr. John Smith say when you put that question?'

'Nothing.'

'Nothing! You don't mean that! You don't mean that you didn't get an answer out of him after all! Then hang me if I don't go right straight back.'

'I mean that he knows nothing. At least that's what he says.'

'And do you believe him?'

Then I was just the silly I expected. I sat down at the table and cried as if I'd nothing else to do. Presently I felt a hand upon my shoulder. It was Mr. FitzHoward.

'Now then, none of that! Do you hear? Stop it! It's only my nonsense. I exaggerate; it's a professional habit I've got into. It's a kind of second nature; so that people who don't know me think that I mean more than I really do. I believe your husband's as sound and well at this moment as I am.'

'I don't know what to believe.'

'But I do; don't I tell you that he's as sound and well as I am?'

'First you say one thing, and then you say another.'

'That's me; that's my character; you've hit it off exactly; you've got to believe what I say last. That's where I'm truthful; at the end. This is the end; I tell you that there's no more the matter with your husband than there is with me. As for Mr. John Smith, he gave me a touch of the needle yesterday, so I thought I'd let him have a touch of it in his turn; that's the solid fact. As for your husband-if you'll kindly give me your attention when you've finished, Mrs. Merrett-who's the most remarkable man I ever had the pleasure of meeting, the marvel of the age-though I say it to his wife-I have an inner conviction here!'-I could hear him beating his hand against his side-'that he's as sound as a bell, in the enjoyment of perfect health, and that he's simply gone on one of those periodical little jaunts you were telling me of. Now, Mrs. Merrett, where are those kids of yours?'

'They're with Mrs. Ordish-at No. 17.'

'Then I'll go to No. 17, and fetch them from Mrs. Ordish.'

'I should be much obliged to you if you would.'

'I am now going to fetch them. There's only one remark I have to make, and that is that I do hope that you're not going to wring the feelings of those tenderhearted infants by letting them see their mother with a red nose.'