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Waverton had gone out, and then impressed by the evidence of haste and the martial elegance of McBean, suggested that my lady might receive the gentleman. "How? The animal has a mother?" says Me Bean in French, and shrugged and beckoned the butler closer. "Now, my friend, could you make a guess where I should look for Mr. Waverton?" and money passed. "Sir, Mr.
Colonel Boyce shrugged. "Oh Lud, yes, we'll want some money. A matter of five hundred pounds should serve." "I will arrange for it in the morning," said Mr. Waverton, too magnificent to be startled. "Pray, what clothes shall we be able to carry?" "Damme, that's a grave matter," said Colonel Boyce, and with becoming gravity discussed it.
When I came on that woman of yours, that Mrs. Weston faith, I am glad that you have cut her off too. I never liked that woman." "Yes, she is poor." "There it is! I doubt she was in Boyce's pay." Alison opened her eyes at him. "Oh, Geoffrey, you surpass yourself to-day. Go on, go on." "If you please," says Mr. Waverton, something ruffled. "I believe he hired her to play his game with you.
The repetition of this statement, together with the dull belief that repetition engenders, braced him at last to paying his bill and taking the tram-car to Waverton. He had formed a resolution. It was still early, scarcely later than the hour at which he usually dined. He had a long evening before him. He would put it to use by packing his belongings. Then he would disappear.
She would have had him back in her arms again? Mr. Waverton continued to laugh. But faith, she went too far when she tried to trick Mr. Waverton a second time. Much she had gained by her treachery. Her fine husband was out of her reach now. It would be a pleasure to advise her of his death. Nay, faith, a duty. The miserable creature had been saved from herself.
"I advise you, do not make me think of you again," and he struck his bell. But when Mr. Waverton was gone: "I fear he has not the spirit of a louse," my lord remarked to himself with a shrug. Thus Mr. Waverton's virtue was left to seek its own reward. When Harry came back to his tavern, he was, you'll believe, not anxious to be seen.
Well done, Mr. Boyce. I always told you, spare the rod and spoil the child. Shall I go cut a birch for you?" "I wonder you are not tired of that old jest, Charles," said Waverton with a dignity which did not permit him to turn round. "Never while it annoys you, child." "Mr. Waverton is in labour with a poem," Harry explained. "And it's indecent in me to be present at the ceremony?
He drew up a chair, Geoffrey reached at a decanter, and so Lady Waverton rose and Alison after her. Colonel Boyce started up. "But no not at that price. Damme, that would poison the Prince's own Tokay. Nay, you are too cruel, my lady. I come, and you desolate the table to receive me. Gad's life, ma'am, our friends here will be calling me out for my daring to exist."
Hadley turned round upon him. "Why, yes. Does it signify?" "I wonder who he was," said Harry. Upon that they entered the drawing-room of Lady Waverton. It was congested and dim. The two oriel windows were so draped with curtains of pink and yellow that only a faint light as of the last of a sunset filtered through.
Captain McBean laughed. "Not by fifty year:" and he contemplated Harry's pale drawn face with benign approval. "But why does Mr. Waverton want you dead now?" "That's my affair," said Harry. "Enfin." Captain McBean shrugged, with a twist of the lip and a cock of the eye. "Is there more of that broth?" says Harry. Captain McBean administered it. "I go get another cup, Harry." He nodded and went out.
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