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Audrey blushed more, thinking of certain plans formed in that head of hers. She said nothing. She was both very pleased and very exasperated. "I have a relative in England, a young girl," Madame Piriac proceeded, "in some unpronounceable county. We write to each other. She is excessively English." Audrey was scarlet. Foulger.
She thought: "None of these people sitting around me know that I have brought it about, and that it is all mine." The thought was sweet. She felt like an invisible African genie out of the Thousand and One Nights. And yet what had she done to bring it about? Nothing, simply nothing, except to command it! She had not even signed cheques. Mr. Foulger had signed the cheques! Mr.
She guessed that the old lady had got some idea into her head about the property, or about her own will, or about the solicitor, or about a tombstone, and that it was worrying her. Foulger.
Foulger had followed her to Birmingham, and in the letter Mr. Foulger had acquainted her with the fact that Great Mexican Oil shares had just risen to £2 3s. apiece. She knew that she had 180,000 of them, and now under the thin protection of Mr. Spatt she tried to reckon 180,000 times £2 3s. She could not do the sum. At any rate she could not be sure that she did it correctly.
After the parlourmaid had gone, and while Audrey was upbraiding her for not confessing earlier her acquaintance with Mr. Foulger, Miss Ingate added: "Only his wife has a wooden leg." Then Mr. Foulger entered. He was a shortish man of about fifty, with a paunch, but not otherwise fat; dressed like a sportsman. He trod very lightly.
Foulger early that morning for information, and an answer was now due. Finally she had to be wise for Mr. Gilman, whose happiness depended on a tone of her voice, on a single monosyllable breathed through those rich lips. She looked forward with interest to being wise for Mr. Gilman. She felt capable of that. The other necessary wisdoms troubled her brow.
Of course the death duties will have to be paid, but your father always kept a considerable amount of money at call. When I say 'considerable, I mean several thousands. That was a point on which he and I had many discussions." Mr. Foulger glanced around with satisfaction.
Moncreiff had so much business to do and people to see. I don't know what it all was. She's very mysterious." As a fact, Audrey had had an interview with Mr. Foulger, who, with laudable obedience, had come up to town from Chelmsford in response to a telegram. Miss Ingate was aware of this, but she was not aware of other and more recondite interviews which Audrey had accomplished.
Foulger, suddenly ashamed, and determined to be a lawyer, said sharply: "Has Mrs. Moze made a will?" "Mother made a will? Oh no!" "Then she should make one at once, in your favour, of course. No time should be lost." "But Mrs. Moze is ill in bed," protested Miss Ingate. "All the more reason why she should make a will. It may save endless trouble. And it is her duty.
"You might tell him," said Audrey, carefully examining the drawn curtains of the window, "that I happened to meet a French concert agent this morning who was very interested in him." "Did you?" cried Miss Ingate. "Where?" "It was when I was out with Mr. Foulger. The agent asked me whether I'd heard a man named Musa play in Paris. Of course I said I had.
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