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Updated: June 20, 2025
And Cotherstone, though he believed that he knew men pretty well, was not sure that he knew Windle Bent sufficiently to feel sure that he would endure a stiff test. Bent was ambitious he was resolved on a career. Was he the sort of man to stand the knowledge which Kitely might give him?
It may be that Colonel Forde himself was more than a little worried about it when, a week later, the young bloodhound disappeared one afternoon and did not show up again next day. There had been further communications with the house of the redoubtable champion Windle Hercules in Hampshire. The Lady Desdemona's line of travel had been chosen.
For if Windle Bent was going on the game of making out that he was a man of family, he certainly would not relish the prospect of uniting his ancient blood with that of a man who had seen the inside of a prison. Kitely! promptly and definitely and for good! that was the ticket. Cotherstone went off into the shadows of the night and a good hour had passed when he returned to his house.
At that instant the door of the vestry opened, and in walked Mr. Windle, followed by the bishop. They saw him there, standing with gently swaying movements by the cupboard, with the black bottle of wine in his hands. "Mr. Bishop," said the warden, "I have brought his lordship to your assistance. I could find no one on my way home." The Rev. Samuel put down the bottle and bowed uncertainly.
"Is that you, father?" she exclaimed. "What are you doing? Don't you remember you asked Windle, and his friend Mr. Brereton, to supper at eight o'clock. It's a quarter to eight now. Do come home!" Cotherstone let out an exclamation which signified annoyance.
"The first business on the agenda paper," said McGinty, "is to read the following letter from Division Master Windle of Merton County Lodge 249. He says: "Dear Sir: "There is a job to be done on Andrew Rae of Rae & Sturmash, coal owners near this place. You will remember that your lodge owes us a return, having had the service of two brethren in the matter of the patrolman last fall.
"That will take a lot of wine." "There's plenty in that cupboard," said Mr. Windle. The gentle rector reverently opened the cupboard and examined it. "Oh yes; there is enough," he said. He held up a black bottle to the light, and blinked at it short-sightedly.
And now, as Kitely had reminded him, she was engaged to be married to the most promising young man in Highmarket, Windle Bent, a rich manufacturer, who had succeeded to and greatly developed a fine business, who had already made his mark on the Town Council, and was known to cherish Parliamentary ambitions.
One and the most important person was a certain solicitor in Norcaster who enjoyed a great reputation as a sharp man of affairs. Another scarcely less important was a barrister who resided in Norcaster, and had had it said of him for a whole generation that he had restored more criminals to society than any man of his profession then living. And the other two were his own daughter and Windle Bent.
Thus, if the alliance between the Lady Desdemona and the great champion of her race, Windle Hercules, had been consummated, a foster-mother would have been held in readiness to share the task of nursing her family when it came.
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