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So the four of us took our seats in the landau which had been ordered, and were soon driving in the direction of Wimbledon Park, where stood the first of the eligible residences entered in the books of a local house agent. The terms for these houses varied, if I recollect rightly, from four to seven guineas a week. Some we did not trouble to enter; others, however, were carefully inspected.
Partly for them, and partly because a minister should have a Tusculum, the Ferrars soon engaged a magnificent villa at Wimbledon, which had the advantage of admirable stables, convenient, as Mrs. Ferrars was fond of horses, and liked the children too, with their fancy ponies, to be early accustomed to riding. All this occasioned expenditure, but old Mr.
"Oh, a beast of a hole!" he replied. "There is not a court anywhere in the town. We tried playing on the roof, but the mater thought it dangerous." Switzerland he had been delighted with. He counselled me next time I went to stay at Zermatt. "There is a capital court at Zermatt," he said. "You might almost fancy yourself at Wimbledon."
On the other hand, of course, I might be mistaken with regard to the men; and before all else I ought to make sure whether they really had any hostile intentions. So I resolved to leave the train at Wimbledon, as I had originally proposed doing, and then shape my course by theirs.
Sir Francis Burdett gloried in being thought a disciple of Mr. Tooke. The Sunday parties at Wimbledon were composed of the disaffected persons in London and Westminster.
To know how to spend a morning was no easier on a birthday than on any ordinary day. Suddenly, however, he overheard the gardener mentioning a murder which had been committed on Wimbledon Common, a fine tract of wild jungle and rolling prairie, that lay across the main road.
The rain had ceased. It was the beginning of a perfect day. He remembered then that he had promised Winny to walk with her to Wimbledon Common. "She's ill. Fair gone to pieces. But the doctor says she'll soon be all right again if we take care of her." It was early evening of Sunday. They were going slowly up the steep hill that winds, westward and southward, toward the heights of Wimbledon.
Colonel Hullocher glared in silence for a moment, and was gone. The clerk slipped out after him. The Adjutant rose: "Now, Cannon, we're all very busy." And shook hands. The same afternoon, indeed within about two hours of his entrance into the Army, George found himself driving back from Wimbledon to London in a motor-bus.
If blood must be shed, let the blood be his! Never was man better primed for murder than the man who tramped across Wimbledon Common at eleven o'clock this night, with the snow drifting against his face, and his limbs shaken every now and then by an ague-fit. Happily for the interests of society, his hand lacked the power to execute that iniquity which his heart willed.
He was as mild as contrition and as copious as faith; he was never so fine as on a shy return, and even better at forgiving than at being forgiven. I dare say it was a smaller matter than that famous night at Wimbledon, the night of the problematical sobriety and of Miss Anvoy's initiation; but I was as much in it on this occasion as I had been out of it then. At about 1.30 he was sublime.
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