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Updated: June 12, 2025
What do you mean by sneakin' in here and tappin' on a fellow's shoulder like a damn' woodpecker, by Jove! I don't know you." There was in Colonel Musgrave's voice a curious tremor, when he spoke; but to the eye he was unruffled, even faintly amused. "I am the owner of this garden," he enunciated, with leisurely distinctness, "and it is not my custom to permit gentlewomen to be insulted in it.
Algy is eating nothing, and is drinking every thing that is offered to him. His face is not much redder than Musgrave's, and he is glancing across the table at Mrs. Huntley, with the haggard anger of his eyes. Of this, however, she seems innocently unaware. She is leaning back in her chair; so is Roger. They are talking low and quickly, and looking smilingly at each other.
The colonel burned the malefic letters that afternoon. Indeed, the episode set him to ransacking the desk in which Patricia had found them a desk which, as you have heard, was heaped with the miscellaneous correspondence of the colonel's father dating back a half-century and more. Much curious matter the colonel discovered there, for "Wild Will" Musgrave's had been a full-blooded career.
And to do him justice, the reflection that old Stapylton's wealth would some day be at Rudolph Musgrave's disposal was never more than an agreeable minor feature of Patricia's entourage whenever, as was very often, Colonel Musgrave fell to thinking of how adorable Patricia was in every particular. Yet there were times when he thought of Anne Charteris as well.
"He can't help that, you know," Charteris reminded her, gently; then, he asked, after a little: "I suppose it is all true?" "That what is true?" "About your having no money of your own?" He laughed, but she could see how deeply he had been pained by Musgrave's suspicions. "I ask, because, as your husband has discovered, I am utterly sordid, my lady, and care only for your wealth."
It was pitifully plain to her that Will Musgrave's place in his wife's heart was very, very narrow. It had dwindled perceptibly since the baby's death. On the subject of Will's letters, Nick could have enlightened her, for he always appeared at the cottage on mail-day for news. But Muriel, having discovered this habit, as regularly absented herself, with the result that they seldom met.
And now I am going to help you too, for you have shown me the way. You don't deserve it in the least, but I'll do it." Thus it shortly came about that Mrs. Pendomer mounted, in meditative mood, to Mrs. Musgrave's rooms; and that Mrs. Pendomer, recovering her breath, entered, without knocking, into a gloom where cologne and menthol and the odor of warm rubber contended for mastery.
I am recalled by Mr. Musgrave's voice, coldly polite. "Will not you sit down?" "No, thank you," reply I, bending my neck back to get a view behind an intervening group; "I had rather stand." "Are you looking for any one?" Again, I wish that I did not know his voice so well that I did not so clearly recognize that slightly guardedly malicious intonation. "Looking for any one?"
Bryan would have to say about bi-metallism when he returned from his foreign tour. And, besides, it was Rudolph Musgrave's besetting infirmity always to shrink under shelter of whatever grandiloquent excuse from making changes. One may permissibly estimate this foible to have weighed with him a little, even now, just as in all things it had always weighed in Lichfield with all his generation.
It was surrounded by a compound of many tangled shrubs that gave it the appearance of being more isolated than it actually was. Not so very far away from it, down in the direction of Will Musgrave's growing reservoir, there stood a dâk-bungalow; and immediately beyond this were corn-fields and the native village that clustered along the edge of the river.
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