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A flush of pleasure rose to Reginald's cheeks, such as would have moved to pity any heart less cold-blooded than Mr Medlock's. "No one has called, I suppose?" "No, sir. There's been a letter, though, from the Rev. T. Mulberry, of Woolford-in-the-Meadow, to ask why the suit he ordered has not yet been delivered." Mr Medlock smiled.
But then, what about coals and postage-stamps and other incidental expenses, which had to be met in Mr Medlock's absence out of his own pocket? The weather was very cold he could hardly do without coals, and he was bound in the interests of the Corporation to keep stamps enough in the place to cover the necessary correspondence.
They continued their conversation as though no third party had been near, and except that Mr Medlock nodded when the waiter said "For three?" seemed to see as little of him as Hamlet's mother did of the Ghost. However, for the time being that nod of Mr Medlock's was all Durfy particularly coveted. He was hungry. Time enough to stand on his dignity when the knife and fork had done their work.
That's three times." "My word! There's Mrs. Medlock's bell," said Martha, and she almost ran out of the room. "It's the strangest house any one ever lived in," said Mary drowsily, as she dropped her head on the cushioned seat of the armchair near her. Fresh air, and digging, and skipping-rope had made her feel so comfortably tired that she fell asleep.
"Good Lord!" exclaimed poor Mrs. Medlock with her eyes almost starting out of her head. "Good Lord!" "What is this?" said Dr. Craven, coming forward. "What does it mean?" Then Mary was reminded of the boy Rajah again. Colin answered as if neither the doctor's alarm nor Mrs. Medlock's terror were of the slightest consequence.
When Pillans got home to his lodgings that night he found his comrade in bed with a severe wound in the shoulder, unable to give any account of himself but that he had been first garotted, then robbed, and finally stabbed, on his way home from the Shades. Mr Durfy did not present himself at Mr Medlock's hotel at the appointed hour next morning.
Mr Medlock's invitation to him to see everything was comfortable could hardly be fully realised on 13 shillings a week. That must wait for Christmas, and meanwhile he must make the best of what he had. The result of this was that he came to the conclusion he should have his hands very full indeed a possibility he by no means objected to.
Here was another locked door added to the hundred in the strange house. "Mr. Craven had it shut when his wife died so sudden. He won't let no one go inside. It was her garden. He locked th' door an' dug a hole and buried th' key. There's Mrs. Medlock's bell ringing I must run." After she was gone Mary turned down the walk which led to the door in the shrubbery.
Then it occurred to him the whole business of the Corporation had been done in his Reginald's name, that all the circulars had been signed by him, and that all the money had come addressed to him. Then there was that awkward mistake about his name, which, accidental or intentional, was Mr Medlock's doing.
Craven, he won't be troubled about anythin' when he's here, an' he's nearly always away. Mrs. Medlock gave me th' place out o' kindness. She told me she could never have done it if Misselthwaite had been like other big houses." "Are you going to be my servant?" Mary asked, still in her imperious little Indian way. Martha began to rub her grate again. "I'm Mrs. Medlock's servant," she said stoutly.
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