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Updated: June 15, 2025
Then he opened Jan's letter and read it through quite a number of times. "Dear Mr. Ledgard," it ran. "Whatever Mr. Kipling may say of the Celt, the lowland Scot finds it very difficult to express strong feeling in words. If I had tried to tell you, face to face, how sensible I am of your kindness and consideration for us during the last sad weeks I should have cried.
It was mysterious, it was profoundly annoying, but it was not, to Hugo, alarming. He suspected that Peter Ledgard was in some way mixed up in it; that he, himself, had been shadowed and that Peter had stolen Tony in the crowd. In his mistrustful wrath he endowed Peter with such abnormal foresight and acumen as he certainly did not possess. It really was an impossible situation.
"And how much longer do you intend to keep Mr. Ledgard waiting for his visit?" "It would be small pleasure for Mr. Ledgard to come here with Hugo, and horrid for Hugo, for he knows perfectly well what Peter ... Mr. Ledgard thinks of him." "But if friend Hugo knew Mr. Ledgard was coming, might it not have an accelerating effect upon his movements?
Well, he wouldn't like it when Jan got hurt. Ledgard was odd about women. He couldn't bear to see them worried; he couldn't bear to see Fay worried, interfered then. A blank, blank, blank interfering chap, Ledgard was. What Jan needed was a real good scare. They suggested Guernsey. Well, he'd go to Guernsey, and he wouldn't go alone. Hugo thoroughly enjoyed a plot.
Fay spoke plaintively, as though Jan were rather hard on Hugo in expecting him to give his wife any account of his movements. Jan was glad it was dark. She felt bewildered and oppressed and very, very angry with her brother-in-law, who seemed to have left his entire household in the care of Peter Ledgard. Was Peter paying for their very food, she wondered? She'd put a stop to that, anyhow.
After all, she was only a woman, and you can always frighten a woman if you go the right way about it. It was damned bad luck that Ledgard should have turned up just now. It was Ledgard he'd got to thank that Fay had made that infamously unjust will by which she left the remnant of her money to her children and not to her husband. Oh yes! he'd a lot to thank Ledgard for.
Some people dined, her father, Judge Parker, Mr. and Mrs. Kidd, Mr. Ledgard, of old Dutch extraction, which is very common here and in the States generally, and lives in the country Canzenovia, on the shores of a lake. His family have been there for generations. Friday, 31st.
You could give him his fare single, mind to Guernsey. Let him go and stay with his people for a bit." Jan shook her head. "I can't turn him out, Meg; and I'm not going to let Mr. Ledgard waste his precious leave on an unpleasant visit.
Fay looked like a tired ghost, and Jan could see that it was a great effort to her to talk cheerfully and seem interested in the home news. After dinner they went back to the sitting-room. Lalkhan brought coffee and Fay lit a cigarette. Jan wandered round, looking at the photographs and engravings on the walls. "How is it," she asked, "that Mr. Ledgard seems to come in so many of these groups?
They think us all mad anyway." There was silence for a few minutes while Jan realised the fact that, dislike it as she might, she seemed fated to be laid under considerable obligation to Mr. Peter Ledgard. "Where is Hugo?" she asked at last. "My dear, you appear to have heard from Hugo since I have. As to his whereabouts I haven't the remotest idea."
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