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Updated: May 18, 2025
Mr Cholderton's Imp had not used her eyes in vain; but Harry's neighbors, content to call him reserved, had no idea that there was anything in particular that he had to hide.
As a last resort, in a last effort to keep in touch with it, although she had been warned that she would find nothing of interest to her in the volume, she telegraphed to a bookseller in London to send her Mr. Cholderton's Journal.
After paying her accomplices their price, she left Russia with the bulk of it immediately." Harry glanced at Neeld; the old man's face was full of excitement and his hand trembled as it lay on the leaves of Josiah Cholderton's Journal. "My mother was married to my father on the 23rd," said Harry slowly. "My brother died on the 22nd," said Wilmot Edge.
The Imp turned over the pages leisurely while Neeld sipped his tea. "I see you put little asterisk things where you leave out anything," she observed. "That's convenient, isn't it?" "I think it's usual," said he. "And another thing you do Oh, you really are a splendid editor! you put the date at the top of every page even where Mr Cholderton's entry runs over ever so many pages.
Yet at times and especially during his visits to the Continent the diarist indulged himself in digressions about people he encountered; and these assumed now and then a character so personal, or divulged episodes so private, that the editor had recourse to his blue pencil and drew it with a sigh through pages which he had himself found no small relief from the severer record of Cholderton's services to the commerce of his country.
He had seen what he wanted, and had no further concern with the ancestry, the ramifications, the abodes or possessions of the Tristrams of Blent. To him who knew, the entry itself was expressive in what it said and in what it omitted; read in conjunction with Josiah Cholderton's Journal it was yet more eloquent. By itself it hinted a scandal else why no dates for the marriages?
With a shrug he took out his cigarette-case and handed it to her. "You and your secrets!" he exclaimed good-humoredly. "Really, Mina, I more than earn my keep by the pleasure I give you in not telling me things. And then you go and do it!" "Shan't this time," said Mr Cholderton's Imp, seeming not a day more than ten, in spite of her smoking cigarette and her smart costume.
"I remember old Cholderton very well. He was a starchy old chap, but he knew his subjects. Makes rather heavy reading, I should think, eh?" "Not all of it, not by any means all of it," Neeld assured him. "He doesn't confine himself to business matters." "Still, even old Joe Cholderton's recreations " "He was certainly mainly an observer, but he saw some interesting things and people."
There was a perceptible pause; then Neeld answered primly: "I'm afraid you won't find your mother's name mentioned in Mr. Cholderton's Journal, Madame Zabriska." "How horrid!" remarked Mina, greatly disappointed; she regarded Mr Neeld with a new interest all the same.
He came to the middle of the room and stood between them, flinging his hat on the table where Mr Cholderton's Journal had so lately lain. "My mother's an extraordinary woman," he went on, evidently so full of his thought that he must speak it out; "she's dying joyfully." After an instant Mina asked, "Why?" Neeld was surprised at the baldness of the question, but Harry took it as natural.
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