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He stood there, gasping and clutching at the edge of the table, while he listened to the man in the adjoining room offering marriage to Joan Meredyth "as the only possible atonement" he could make her! Naturally, Mr. Philip Slotman could not understand in the least why or wherefore; it was beyond his comprehension. And now he stood listening eagerly, holding his breath waiting for her answer.
"This morning Miss Jone gets a letter and the postmark is Hurst Dormer, like you told me to look out for. She is now gone to London. Please send money in accordance with promise and I will write and tell you all the news as soon as there is any more. "Youres truley, "MISS ALICE BETTS." The door opened, a boy clerk came in. Slotman thrust the letter he had been reading into an open drawer.
See that dawg?" The man pointed to the lurcher. "See him: he's more'n a brother, more'n a son, more'n a wife to me. That's the dawg you run over that day, and you grinned. I seen it you grinned!" The man's black eyes sparkled. He looked swiftly up the road and down it, and Slotman saw the action and quivered. "I'll give you " he began. "I am very sorry; it was an accident. I'll pay you for "
For a while the unrighteous may bask in the sunshine of prosperity, but there comes a time of reckoning, more especially in the City of London, and things were at this moment shaping ill for Mr. Philip Slotman. He stood at the door of the general office and surveyed his clerks. There were five of them; at the end of the week there would be but two, he decided.
He could scarcely believe his own ears Joan, who had held her head so high, whom he had believed to be above the breath of suspicion! If it were possible for such a man as Mr. Philip Slotman to be shocked, then Slotman was deeply shocked at this moment. He had come to regard Joan as something infinitely superior to himself.
The church bells of Little Langbourne Church were ringing pleasantly when Philip Slotman, with many a grunt and inward groan, rose from his couch. Except for a slight discoloration about the left eye and a certain stiffness of gait, there was nothing about Philip Slotman when he came down to the coffee-room for his breakfast to suggest that he had seen so much trouble the previous evening.
Slotman unpleasant name what the dickens does he want of me?" Marjorie did not answer. Slotman was being shewn into the drawing-room a few moments later. He was wearing his best clothes and best manner. This Lady Linden was an aristocratic dame, and Mr. Slotman had come for the express purpose of making himself very agreeable. "Oily-looking wretch!" her ladyship thought. "Well?" she asked aloud.
"I got a letter to write in a 'urry. Give me a paper and envelope," she demanded. "MISTER P. SLOTMAN, Dear sir," Alice wrote. "This is to imform you, as agreed, that Mister Alston has gone. Miss Jone writ him a letter, what about cannot say, only as soon as he gets it, he packs up and leaves Starden. I have been to Mrs.
Looks as if he's up from the country, but he's a gentleman all right," the clerk said. "Very good, I'll see him." Slotman rose as Hugh came in. He recognised the man of position and possessions, a man of the class that Slotman always cultivated. "I wish to ask your permission to interview Miss Meredyth. I understand that, in business hours, the permission of the employer should be asked first."
She may have said she was, but she wasn't!" He chuckled grimly. He was beginning to see through it. "I suppose she told that tale, and then it got about, and then the fellow came and offered her marriage as the only possible way out. I'd like to choke the brute!" Slotman slept that night in London, and early the following morning he was on his way to Marlbury.
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