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Updated: August 3, 2024
I walked on briskly up Fetter Lane until a narrow, arched opening, bearing the superscription "Nevill's Court," arrested my steps, and here I turned to encounter one of those surprises that lie in wait for the wanderer in London byways.
She had hoped that he would be happy too, when Nevill's danger was over, and he had time to think of himself perhaps, too, of her. "Yes," she said, "let's talk in the garden, when it's cooler. I love being in gardens, don't you? Everything that happens seems more beautiful." Stephen remembered how lovely he had thought her in the lily garden at Algiers.
But that the tiny Lady MacGregor should refer to tall Josette, who was nearly twice her height, as a "little beast," struck him as somewhat funny. Besides, her toy-terrier snappishness was comic. "I've nothing against the girl," Lady MacGregor felt it right to go on, "except that she's an idiot to bite off her nose to spite her own face and Nevill's too.
"Nevill's Court," said Mrs. Jablett, "is a alley, and you goes into it through a archway. It turns out on Fetter Lane on the right 'and as you goes up, oppersight Bream's Buildings." I thanked Mrs. Jablett and went on my way, glad that the morning round was nearly finished, and vaguely conscious of a growing appetite and of a desire to wash in hot water.
The passage of this strait landed me on the terra firma of Fleur-de-Lys Court, where I halted for a moment to consult my visiting list. There was only one more patient for me to see this morning, and he lived at 49, Nevill's Court, wherever that might be. I turned for information to the presiding deity of the coal shop. "Can you direct me, Mrs. Jablett, to Nevill's Court?"
That in itself was a strange revelation! And suddenly a vague suspicion came into his mind a chilling doubt as he recalled Nevill's demeanor, and certain little actions of his, on the night when Jack Vernon's French wife confronted him under the trees of Richmond Terrace.
The slow grin, however, for which I was watching, never came; on the contrary, he not only heard me through quite gravely, but when I had finished said with some warmth, and using my old hospital pet name: "I'll say one thing for you, Polly; you're a good chum, and you always were. I hope your Nevill's Court friends appreciate the fact."
All he meant to do was to dig his trench and to lay his mine, to place the fuse in Vera Nevill's hands leave her to set fire to it and then retire himself, covered with satisfaction at his cleverness, to his own side of the Channel. Who could possibly grudge him so harmless an entertainment?
"Very flattering," replied Jervis; "but I thought you had to talk of the devil." "Perhaps," suggested Thorndyke, "he was talking to himself. But why were you thinking of us, and what was the nature of your thoughts?" "My thoughts had reference to the Bellingham case. I spent the whole of last evening at Nevill's Court." "Ha! And are there any fresh developments?" "Yes, by Jove! there are.
I think under the circumstances he might have come Nevill's oldest friend. Did you know Miss Batchelor was in church! She was. Not in the chancel away at the back. You couldn't see her. I think it showed very nice feeling in her to come, and to send those lovely roses too from her own greenhouse. I must say everybody has been most kind, and there wasn't a hitch in the arrangements.
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