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"You seem to stand up for your friends, nephew Harry," says the Baronet. "Fill thy glass, lad, thou art not as bad as thou hast been painted. I always told my lady so. I drink Madam Esmond Warrington's health, of Virginia, and will have a full bumper for that toast." Harry, as in duty bound, emptied his glass, filled again, and drank Lady Warrington and Master Miles.
Yet somehow, one morning when his affairs called him to town, she divined what Warrington's errand was, and that he was gone to London to get news about Fanny for Pen.
Warrington's apartments in Southampton Row, they found a letter awaiting George, which the latter placed in his pocket unread, so that he might proceed immediately with his companion to Soho. We may be sure the ladies there were eager to know about the Carpezan's fate in the morning's small rehearsal.
Bolles gave one more look at the swiftly-moving figure on the horse, and shuffled away toward McQuade's office, to await the arrival of that gentleman. Bolles needed money, and he knew where to get it. As she reached the foot of Williams Street Patty glanced up the hill. A horseman had just entered Warrington's. She recognized both man and horse. It was Warrington.
Jack was in her thoughts when she opened the letter, which was signed by McQuade's familiar appellation. Dear Girl I've got them all this trip. I'll put Bennington on the rack and wring Warrington's political neck, the snob, swelling it around among decent people! What do you think?
Did you hear those footsteps over the detectaphone? That was the Boss going out of the garage. So, they expect me around there, nosing about Warrington's apartment. Well, if I do go there, and then ostentatiously go away again, that will lure them on." He reached his decision quickly.
Warrington's old bookcase and battered library, Pen's writing-table with its litter of papers, presented an aspect cheerless enough. "Will you like to look in the bedrooms, Mr. Bows, and see if my victims are there?" he said bitterly; "or whether I have made away with the little girls, and hid them in the coal-hole?" "Your word is sufficient, Mr. Pendennis," the other said in his sad tone.
He tried every trick he knew, but he could only get so near. The ring was as wide as the world; there were no corners to make grappling a possibility. Some of his desperate blows got through. The bezel of his ring laid open Warrington's forehead. He was brave enough; but he began to realize that this was not the same man he had turned out into the night, four years ago.
"Well, there was a doctor and a nurse there all night with them. But she was in Warrington's rooms all night. That seemed enough for me." Bolles put the table between him and Bennington. He was genuinely afraid. Morrissy turned over and sat up, rubbing his head. Presently he pulled himself to his feet. He was dazed. Recollection of what had happened returned to him. This dude had knocked him out.
George wants the famous tragedy copied out fair for the stage, and who can write such a beautiful Italian hand as Miss Theo? As the sheets pass to and fro they are accompanied by little notes of thanks, of interrogation, of admiration, always. See, here is the packet, marked in Warrington's neat hand, "T's letters, 1758-9." Shall we open them and reveal their tender secrets to the public gaze?
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