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Updated: June 2, 2025
Odell-Carney was preparing to announce to the unfortunate wife that the couple had eloped in the most cowardly fashion, Miss Fowler herself appeared on the scene, dishevelled, mud-spattered, and hot, but with a look of firm determination in her face.
Nor should her wakefulness be laid at the door of the tired Mr. Rodney, who was ever a firm and stentorian sleeper. Morning came, and with it a horseback ride for Brock and Miss Fowler. That was enough for Mrs. Rodney; she would hold in no longer. Mrs. Odell-Carney must be told; she, at least, must have the chance to escape before the storm of scandal broke to muddy her immaculate skirts.
Forthwith the considerate hostess appeared before her guest with a headful of disclosures. She had decided in advance that it would not do to beat about the bush, so to speak; she would come directly to the obnoxious point. They were in Mrs. Odell-Carney's sitting-room. Mr. Odell-Carney was smoking a cigaret on the balcony, just outside the window. Mrs. Rodney did not know that he was there.
He hesitated a moment and then went on: "So you are the chap that really put in those c'nfended memorial windows. 'Pon me word, sir, they are the rottenest " "Carney!" came the sharp reminder from his wife. "I should have said," revised Mr. Odell-Carney, "you are the chap who played the deuce with the building grafters in the County Council. Remarkable!"
It seems, also, that the bank insists upon having some light thrown upon the methods by which Mrs. Medcroft secures money on her letter of credit." "You are welcome to all that, sir," declared Mr. Odell-Carney, "but I am interested to know just why my wife and I are brought into this affair." "Because you are guests of Mr. Rodney, sir, I regret to state. We have no complaint against you, sir.
"But she's your cousin, isn't she, madam?" he retorted with fierce irony. "I disown her!" wailed his wife, sans raison. "Go to your rooms!" stormed pudgy Mr. Rodney. Then, as they slunk away, he turned to the approving Odell-Carney, sticking out his chest a trifle in his new-found authority. "I say, Carney, what's to be done next?" The other looked at him for a moment as if in doubt.
Odell-Carney was ponderous; he was merely the effectual result of delay. Perhaps it is safe to agree with those who knew him best; they maintained that Odell-Carney was a pose, nothing more. His wife was quite the opposite in nearly every particular, except height and angularity. She was bony and red-faced and opinionated.
After some further discussion and protest, the Scotland Yard man and his party left the room to its distracted mistress. It may be well to remark, for the sake of local colour, that Tootles was crying lustily, while Raggles barked in spite of all that O'Brien could do to stop him. Odell-Carney sent his wife to Edith. A few minutes later, as he was making his way to the office, he came upon Mrs.
"Oh, heavens! I knew they'd kill him I knew something dreadful would happen if I left " Here she stopped suddenly. He distinctly heard her catch her breath. After a moment she went on warily: "Is it from a man named Hobart?" "No! It's from Odell-Carney. Hobart? I don't know anybody named Hobart." No time to be lost. We've got to catch the nine o'clock train."
Brock was solemnly ushered through the public office by Mr. Odell-Carney and Freddie Ulstervelt. It is not stretching the truth to say that they were sour and sullen, but, as may be suspected, from peculiarly different causes. At last all were congregated in the stuffy office, very much subdued and very much at odds with each other. Mr. Githens was there.
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