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Updated: June 8, 2025
Morgan, in mistaken kindness, had encumbered the bed ... old Jaggs must go ... he was a nuisance.... She woke with a start from a dreamless sleep. The clock in the hall was striking three. She realised this subconsciously. Her eyes were fixed on the window, which was open at the bottom. Mrs.
Remembering Jean's description of him as "a little queer" she tried to fit that description into her knowledge of him, only to admit to herself that he had been exceptionally normal as far as she was concerned. The suggestion that his object was mercenary, and that he looked upon her as a profitable match for himself, she dismissed without consideration. "Anyway, I like your Mr. Jaggs," she said.
Jean sat down slowly in the padded Venetian chair before her writing table. "Jaggs?" she asked. "Yes, miss." "And why didn't you come here at once?" "I thought I might be followed, miss." The girl bit her lip and nodded. "You did quite right," she said, and then after a moment's reflection, "We shall be in Paris next week. You had better go by the night train and wait for us at the flat."
"Number one?" "The nearly-a-fatal accident in Berkeley Street," said Jack. "Will you explain by what miracle the car arrived at the psychological moment?" she asked. "That's easy," he said with a smile. "Old man Briggerland lit his cigar standing on the steps of the house. That light was a brilliant one, Jaggs tells me. It was the signal for the car to come on.
Took him all in, from his iron-grey hair to his dusty shoes, and then she pointed to a chair. "Sit down," she said, and old Jaggs obeyed. "You've something very important to tell Mrs. Meredith, I suppose." "I'll tell her that myself, miss," said the old man gruffly.
"What does it matter if he does?" said the girl impatiently. "You said the other day " he began. "The other day it mattered, my dear father. To-day nothing matters very much. I think we have got well out of it. I ignored all the lessons which my textbook teaches when I entrusted work to other hands. Jaggs," she said softly. "Eh?" said the father.
He irritated, and yet in some indefinable way, pleased her. His sincerity ? She did not doubt his sincerity. She admitted to herself that she wished he would call a little more frequently than he did. He might have persuaded her that Jaggs was a necessary evil, but he hadn't even taken the trouble to come. Therefore but this she did not admit Jaggs must go.
Nobody was about, the most energetic of the servants had not yet risen, and she strolled through the avenue to the main road. As she stood there looking up and down a man came out from the trees that fringed the road and began walking rapidly in the direction of Monte Carlo. "Mr. Jaggs!" she called.
How did your interview with the commissioner go on?" "We parted the worst of friends," said Jack, "and, Rennett, the next man who talks to me about Jean Briggerland's beautiful face is going to be killed dead through it, even though I have to take a leaf from her book and employ the grisly Jaggs to do it." That night the "grisly Jaggs" was later than usual.
In the evening Jean had an interview with her French chauffeur, and afterwards disappeared into her room. Lydia tapping at her door to bid her good night received no answer. Day was breaking when old Jaggs came out from the trees in his furtive way and glancing up and down the road made his halting way toward Monte Carlo.
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